


Army of Two

by charleslehnsherr



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awesome Clint Barton, BAMF Peter Parker, Bruce Banner Smokes Marijuana, Cartel Ring - Fighting, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is a Sweetheart, Hurt Peter Parker, Kidnapping, M/M, Mutant Rights, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is 17, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Erik Lehnsherr, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Protective Wade Wilson, Rewritten Origins, Scarred Wade Wilson, Superfamily, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, Underage Smoking, Virgin Peter Parker, Wade Wilson Breaking the Fourth Wall, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wade is 18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:37:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleslehnsherr/pseuds/charleslehnsherr
Summary: After his parents decide to take a three-week field trip to Hawaii, Peter meets Wade Wilson - an attractive kid, with a scarring past, that helps him come to terms with his teen angst.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ~ no edits until story is completely done  
> ~ characters don't belong to me  
> ~ information deemed important will most likely be here but there probably won't be any  
> ~ updates will either be quick or slow, no inbetween

Peter sighs as he melts into the back of his seat, plugging his headphones into his ears and watching Clint and Thor play ping-pong in front of him. After the collapse of SHIELD, the Avengers are pretty much a personal organization. Of course, his father would completely disagree; saying they were wild horses yet to be tamed. Some weird, ugly simile or metaphor like that. 

His only wish would be that he could help his parents - after all, being the son of Captain America and Iron Man is pretty dope, considering you get all the grade A missions and leads. For now, his powers are under lockdown. 

Tony doesn’t want his precious boy getting hurt, and geez - when Peter randomly started crawling on ceilings after getting bit by a spider, he damn near had a heart attack, spewing stuff about how he didn’t want HYDRA to get any ideas about getting their hands on his baby. 

Peter loves his parents, he really does; but he just wished he had the chance to prove to them he’s pretty powerful and badass. 

“Little spider,” Thor bellows, walking over to Peter and waving his hand. He’s so overly polite sometimes it hurts. “Please, come join us and play this ball game.”

Peter tugs his headphones out and shrugs. “I guess. Not like I have any friends besides you guys,” He says. It’s only a little sad, considering everyone at his school is an asshole except Ned, and the Avengers are all badass. Except for Tony. Tony is a dork. 

“Hey,” Clint says, flinging a paddle at him. Peter reaches out and catches it by the handle. “We’re the only friends you need. Also, no boyfriends. Not yet. We want to keep you young for just a little while longer.” 

Peter feels a blush creep over his face. “Nobody likes me anyway, so no worries.” 

“I like you, little one!” Thor says, slapping him on the back. “You are funny and smart, and you shoot webs. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” 

See, Thor is super nice and all; but this is so embarrassing, Peter can feel his insides slowly rotting away from cringe. 

Natasha walks past in perfect time, taking a bite of the chocolate bar in her hand. “Thor, Clint; leave Pete alone. He already has Steve and Tony on his back about being loved. It’s probably crippling to him.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Natasha is Peter’s favorite. 

He mouths a quiet thank you her way, which earns a wink in return, and then starts playing ping pong with the two men. Natasha decides to stand next to Clint, who she tries to manipulate every time it's his turn to play.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Natasha is going against Clint when Steve and Tony wonder out of their room and into chaos. 

“C’mon, Hawkeye!” She’s yelling, hitting the ball so hard it flies past Clint and bounces off of the wall. It somehow ends up in Thor’s hands. “You call yourself a good eye, and yet you can’t even play ping pong correctly?” 

“Watch it,” is his response. “I am totally badass with my arrows and I suggest you shut up unless you want to have one of them up your ass.” 

Natasha looks over to Peter, who giggles when she makes a goofy, mocking face. 

Steve doesn’t find it funny, because; yanno. He saw the ball fly past Peter. His only son. 

“Guys, can’t you just sit back and relax for one day?” He says, walking over to Clint and confiscating his paddle. “That ball could’ve taken somebody’s eye out.”

“But it did not,” Thor says, holding the ball up for Steve to see. “For I have caught it, so it would not take out an eye, as you said.”

Peter giggles again. “Yeah, pops. He caught it so it would not take out an eye, just as you said.”

Thor is silent before he turns to Tony. “Is the spider mocking me?” 

Peter’s father rolls his eyes and steps forward, pulling the paddle from Steve’s hand. “Steve, stop being so uptight. The whole point of going to Hawaii is so you can take a chill pill and relax a little bit. Let them play their childish game.” 

“This is not a childish game,” Natasha says. “It is a game fit for Gods.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says, waving her off. “This just goes to show we’re all Gods except Clint.” 

“Hey!” 

Steve ignores the bickering and walks over to where his son sits. Peter gives a warm smile as the Captain runs his fingers through his hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. Everyone else makes a deal to look away because they know Steve the biggest mama bear knows to man and will rip them a new one if they mock the parental gesture. 

“I love you,” Steve says. “Are you enjoying yourself yet?” 

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, I am. It’s kind of hard not to enjoy yourself when your babysitters are a God, an assassin, and some random guy that’s super bad at ping pong.”

“Hey,” Clint barks. Tony and Thor are now playing ping pong, laughing at whatever Natasha is commenting. “You’re acting as if I never changed your poopy baby diapers.” 

Peter smiled. “Sorry. A God, an assassin, and the guy who changed my poopy baby diapers.” 

Clint rolled his eyes. “I guess I’ll take what I can get.” 

Peter looked back to Steve, who was idly combing his son’s hair. 

“I just want you to be relaxed, okay?” His pops says. “I know you’ve been stressed, and I know every since Tony let you start using the training room, you’ve been practicing your powers non stop. I just need you to know even the best of the best need a break sometime.” 

Peter wants to say a smart comment about Clint being the best of the best, just to piss him off, but his pops is being 100% serious with him right now. He smiles softly and nods. “Okay, pops. I’ll try and chill out while we’re in Hawaii.” 

Steve kisses his forehead again. “I love you, Peter.” 

“Love you too, pops.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

They landed in Hawaii at five, after hours of Peter watching Clint and Natasha play dozens of games. Out of all of them, he only beat her at darts. Thankfully, that was the last game they played before they were getting out of Tony’s private ship and walking towards their hotel because he wouldn’t shut up, even if Steve begged him to. 

Peter was staying in a hotel room with Thor and Clint since his parents wanted ‘alone time.’ Steve tried to object, but Peter said he was fine with it - besides all of them would be spending time together all day anyway. 

They decided to stay in on the first night. Tony wanted to already start sightseeing, but everyone was jet lagged and wanted to go to bed. Peter had no idea how a bunch of superheroes with so much energy were able to crash around six o’clock. 

Soon, Peter is lying in bed; wide-awake. All of their rooms were large; practically suites. He had his own section, Clint had his, and Thor had his own. And he was closest to the door out of there. It seven at night, but he knows tourists are probably still having the time of their life right now. And if it’s a hotel picked out by Tony Stark, he knows for sure there are parties going on. 

He climbs out of bed without any sound coming from him. Clint laid his key to get in on the dresser, so it’s not hard for him to sneak out. He pulls his shorts on, with a white tee and a flannel to go over it; and leaves the room. 

Tony and Steve are awake, he can hear them as he passes their room; but since JARVIS isn’t in control of security, he has no reason to worry about them finding out he left the room. 

The hotel is huge. Kind of like the one in Stephen King’s _The Shining_ , which makes him a little queasy, but he’s positive he can hold his own. 

Peter takes the elevator to the lobby, and then exits out of the front door; before making a sharp left turn and walking towards the fair-like event that is taking place around 20 feet from him. Not far away from the hotel, but far away enough. 

When he enters, he feels a swell of warmth in his chest. The lights around him are beautiful, there’s a nice smell in the air - and immediately a beautiful woman with brown skin and blue eyes is placing a flower garland around his neck. He thanks her, before walking in deeper. A group of men are playing music, loud enough to surround him, and there are...fireworks. 

It is absolutely stunning, and beautiful. 

Peter is looking at a stand selling shells collected from the ocean when he meets him.

“Wow, look at this one; it’s beautiful.” A shell is being shoved into his face. It’s a faded purple with small swirls painted on it in a pale blue color. He looks up to see a blonde boy, probably only a little older than him by a year or so. There’s a thick scar running from the top of his forehead, over his eye, and then it drags to the left slightly. He has small acne bumps aligning his cheeks, and he’s wearing a ridiculous stereotypical Hawaii rest shirt all tourists wear. Peter can’t help but stare. “It isn’t as beautiful as you, though.” 

A blush crosses the smaller males cheeks and  _ wow.  _ Peter thought Thor was going to be one of the tallest men he met. This boy - man? - was probably four to five inches taller than him, and he had thick biceps and large legs. Not...that Peter was looking…

“Wow,” Peter says, gingerly plucking the shell from his fingers and looking at it. He can’t help but wonder what the other male is thinking of as he takes in all of Peter’s appearance. “You must say that to all the boys.” 

A smirk crosses his lips. “Only to the pretty ones.” There’s a pause. “My name is Wade. Wade Wilson. I’ve been going here every night since I arrived, and I’m sure I would’ve noticed you here before. Are you visiting?” 

Peter hums and doesn’t answer his question. “Do you live here?” 

“Shortly,” The boy -  _ Wade  _ \- says. “My foster parents are here for business or something like that.” 

“Cool,” Peter says. Then he hands the shell back to him and makes eye contact. “I’m Peter. Peter Stark.” 

Wade lets out a low whistle, and Peter is actually going to die if he’s gonna mention something about his dad being Iron Man. But he doesn’t. “Shit,” He says. “I think we should change your last name. I was thinking, Wilson is pretty nice.” 

Another blush crosses Peter’s face. “No offense, but I think that shell has more game than you.

Wade winces and closes his eyes, hitting his chest and then gripping his t-shirt with a tight palm. “Wow, Pete. That really hurt my ego. Thank God it’s big enough to live for millions of years,” 

Peter laughs and starts walking away. “Goodbye, Wade Wilson. I have places to be.” 

“You know,” Wade persists, continuing to walk by the smaller male’s side. “You never did answer my question.” 

The brunet raises one eyebrow. “And?” 

“That’s very rude, for someone who seems so precious.” 

Peter can’t help but snort and roll his eyes. “You sound like my father,” 

“Well, you know what they say. Girls tend to be attracted to the men who act like their father.” 

The male groans. “Goodbye, Wade. I snuck out, and honestly; I shouldn’t even be here. We’ll probably be visiting tomorrow night anyway.” 

He starts heading towards the hotel room, but Wade decides to continue to walk with him. 

“What are you doing?” Peter asks, looking up to Wade. 

“I would never let such a cute boy such as you walk alone at night.” 

Peter rolls his eyes once more. “I can handle myself,” He pauses. “Just because I’m tiny, doesn’t mean I can’t fight.”

“That’s hot,” is Wade’s response. 

The rest of the walk is silence. Peter thought he would shake him off outside of the front entrance, but Wade follows him all the way to his hotel room. 

“This is me,” He says softly, pulling the room key out of his pocket. “Thanks...I guess.”

Wade smiles, and soon the shell he was showing him before is in his face again. The taller male gently takes the others hand and presses it into it. 

“Beautiful shell for a beautiful boy.” 

Peter can’t do anything except stare. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Wade says. Then he’s walking away. Peter turns to say something, but Wade doesn’t look back, and the brunet can’t seem to find his voice. Soon, the backside of Wade is gone; and he’s standing alone in the hallway. 

He looks at the shell in his hands, staring at it for a moment, before curling his fist around it and putting it up to his heart. Then, he leans on the door to his hotel room and lets out a deep sigh. 

_ Wade. Wade Wilson. Who are you? _

He doesn’t have time to even put the key in the door before it’s ripping open, both Clint and Thor standing there. Clint looks murderous, and Thor has a large smile on his face like he always does. 

Peter wants to cry. 

“So,” Thor chirps. “Who was the boy?” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ i use grammarly to edit lol   
> ~ updates come either slow or fast  
> ~ don't own these characters :)

Whenever Peter was in trouble, he always found himself sitting on a couch, hands in-between his legs, head hung low; and two Avengers towering in front of him with their arms crossed. After being caught sneaking out - well technically in - he found himself sitting on a bed, with Clint and Thor standing over him. He didn’t know if Thor was mad, but he knew for a fact that Clint was. 

Clint normally didn’t exactly care, but that was only if he wasn’t the one responsible for the kid. If Peter had snuck out and got a stern talking to from his parents - his Uncle would be the first one to give him a high five and...God forbid, ask him if he got any. Tonight, he wasn’t getting any high-fives. He wasn’t out for too long, but it was long enough to give Clint a mini panic attack. 

“What in the hell were you thinking?” Clint asks. He doesn’t raise his voice, but Peter can tell that he wants to. Can tell he’s  _ disappointed.  _ “Where did you even go?” 

All the boy could do was shrug quietly. “I don’t know; I just. I was bored.” 

The archer’s eyes seem to pop out of their sockets. “You were  _ bored?”  _ The mere saying makes him look like he’s about to have an aneurysm. “You were  _ bored?”  _

An ashamed flush of red colors Peter’s face. “I mean, I just. I couldn’t sleep and was antsy. I wanted to get out for a while, move around.” He takes a pause, before confiding a piece of information to Clint that could get him in major trouble with his parents. “I actually do this a lot. JARVIS really likes me, since my dad pretty much programmed him to; so it’s easy to sneak out.” 

“Well, what do you do?” Thor asks. He looks interested. It’s easier looking at him, rather than Clint. 

“I do backflips on the top of the building,” He mumbles, looking down at his hands. It’s cold, so the tan skin pales enough for him to see his blue veins. “Shoot webs, use my powers. Stuff like that.” 

Clint is physically pained as he listens. “Pete,” He says, sighing. “You could get really hurt doing that. Tonight, God...You know how many people would love to get their hands on you? You’re not just Tony Stark’s son, but you also have information on the Avengers. Bad people would love to kidnap you for leverage over us or over Tony. Especially since millions of people know who you are, whether you feel like they do or not.” 

Guilt blooms in Peter’s chest, and he sighs. He hates it when he can’t just do whatever he wants without consequences. He truly is Tony Stark’s son. 

“Okay, yes; I get it,” He says, rubbing his hand into his hair. “Can you please just punish me later? We’re spending three weeks here, and I don’t want to spend it by my dad’s side 24/7.” 

Peter uses the puppy eyes, which makes Thor grin widely. 

“Of course, young spider!” He says eyes squinted from smiling so wide. “We would never-”

Clint cuts him off. “I’ll let you off this one time,” He says. “Act like nothing happened. But I have an eye on you, Pete. And if you step out of line again, or I catch you doing it, I will tell Steve and Tony...Now go to bed, I feel bad for playing bad uncle.” 

Peter stands up and gives him a hug. “Thank you,” 

The man wrinkled his nose. “I preferred you in stinky, poopy diapers.” 

»»-------------¤-------------««

The next morning, Peter was exhausted. 

After Clint and Thor had gone back to bed, Peter stayed wide awake, thinking of Wade. He was surprised that Clint didn’t mention Wade, but the next morning, over breakfast, he did - which caused Peter to choke on the orange juice he was drinking. 

The Hotel offered a buffet and of course, Thor wanted in on it - indulging in all the free food they had to offer. He had multiple plates stacked with pancakes bathing in syrup, bacon, both scrambled  _ and  _ fried eggs, sausage, biscuit, and grits. Peter settled on a waffle with some syrup, two pieces of bacon, and one egg. Though, Steve had frowned on his plate and given him some more eggs with bacon, claiming he was a growing boy with a speedy metabolism and he looked as skinny as a twig. 

Thanks for that, Pops.

“I wonder what type of adventures we’re going to go on here,” Tony says from his place beside Peter. He was sandwiched between his two dads. He almost always was. “Will we meet new friends, get to see a volcano blow up, or watch if someone gets eaten by a shark?” 

Cue Clint being a dick-wad. 

“I’m sure Peter won’t have any trouble making friends,” Clint says, winking at him. “Maybe he’ll even find himself a boyfriend.” 

Peter throat convulses around the orange juice inside him and forces himself to swallow before he has a hard coughing fit. This goes on for two minutes before he’s tear eyes and waving back and forth in front of his nose, trying to calm himself down. “I’m f-fine,” He coughs again. “Perfect-ngh-perfectly fine.” 

»»-------------¤-------------««

During the night, when he was bored, he went to the bathroom; managed to cut a hole in the shell that Wade gave him, and turned it into a necklace. It took him forever, and he almost started to cry because he didn’t want to break it, but he succeeded - and now it lay on his chest, undeath his thin t-shirt. 

There were times on the ride to the local beach where he reached up and grabbed it, looking out the window. Natasha and Clint sit side by side, bickering about the candies the car provided; Thor and Steve sit together, talking to each other about the movie on the portable television provided, and Tony sits silently by his son - sleeping. Guess insomnia runs in the family. 

When they arrived at the beach, Peter had the great pleasure of lugging around his stuff that Steve packed for him. It was a large bag filled with three -  _ three!  _ \- bottles of sunscreen, some water bottles, granola bars, and extra clothes for...some reason Steve didn’t let him in on. 

They got a great spot by the edge of the water, and it wasn’t long until Tony was longing underneath the umbrella, working on suit designs, watching as everyone had a good time. Peter would be on his phone the whole time, but he had no friends except Ned and MJ, who were both away with their own families; and he could never say no to spending time with his Pops - who took  _ live every moment like it matters  _ to a serious extent. He wasn’t paying attention to what the other three were doing. All he knew was that Thor was exclaiming giant hello’s at strangers, and then demanding which one out of Clintasha threw a muddy ball of sand at his back. 

“Where did you get that shell?” Steve asks him eventually, studying where it lays on his son’s chest. They’re building a small Iron Man, to surprise Tony - who had fallen asleep with his work tablet on his face mere moments ago. 

Peter is about to say  _ what shell?  _ when he looks down and sees that Wade’s gift had escaped from the innings of his shirt and lay free for everyone to see. He almost smiles and touches it, but decides to just shrug and look back to what he was doing. 

“Some random shell I found in the hotel room,” He lied. “Looked pretty so I turned it into a necklace.” 

His pops smiles. “Reminds me of when I first went to Hawaii with your father and he went shell hunting to find me the prettiest shell. When he settled on one, he said it could never be as pretty as I am, to him.” 

A shiver went down Peter’s spine.  _ Parallels are weird,  _ he can’t help but think. 

»»-------------¤-------------««

After they finish the mini Iron Man made of sand, and Tony freaks out and takes a million pictures of it; Peter decides he wants to go and get some ice cream. His parents haven’t touched the water once, and are both too busy snuggling each other and on the edge of sleep to care. 

“Can I go get some ice cream?” He asks. 

“Just make sure to keep your phone off vibrate and on you at all times,” Is the only thing Tony says, Steve humming in agreement. 

Peter takes his phone, slides it into the trunks of his swimming shorts; and is soon walking along the path of the beach. He isn’t positive they have an ice cream stand somewhere on the beach, but he has a feeling that it does. After all - most of the beaches he went to had one. 

It takes him awhile to find it, and he feels an itch underneath his skin from walking so far away from his parents. Sure, they’re always breathing down his neck - but after what Clint said last night, about people wanting to kidnap him…

It scared him for life, he’ll leave it at that. 

The ice cream stand is small, and two men are working it. One of them is younger, around 21, and the other looks old enough to be his father. When he walks up to it to order the  _ Cherry-Berry Slam _ , the younger of the two immediately lean over the counter to help him. His skin is a light caramel color, his black hair short and curling along the edges. He flashes a large smile to Peter; teeth white, and straight - and dear God, Peter is so gay. 

“What can I get for you?” He asks, and that’s when Peter notices the top button of his see-through white top is unbuttoned, and there’s an outline of muscle. Like, right there.  _ RIGHT THERE. _

“Uh,” Peter stammers, a blush rising on his cheeks. He clears his throat, and the man’s smile eventually turns into a smirk. “How-How much for a Cherry-Berry Slam?” 

The man looks over, taps his hand on the table, and then looks back to Peter. “It’s free on the house if you give me your number.” 

He says it so confidently, and Peter can barely take in a word he’s saying since  _ Jesus Christ this guy is hot  _ so he says yes automatically without even realizing what he’s done. The boy - does he even know Peter is still technically a minor? - slides a piece of paper and pencil towards him. Peter writes down his name and number; pausing for only a split second before changing the 50 as the last digits to 40. He’ll get someone, but not Peter. 

Peter only feels guilty for a minute. After he gets the Cherry-Berry slam in his hands, he’s too excited to eat it to even think twice about the man. 

»»-------------¤-------------««

They leave the beach when Peter gets back from his ice cream hunt, and Clint all but full out blackmails him into giving him half of his Cherry-Berry Slam, which made Peter pout the entire car ride home. He didn’t look all pretty to get  _ half  _ an ice-cream for free, he looked pretty to get the  _ whole  _ ice-cream for free.

Tony declares they must eat a quick dinner before going to the spot where Peter met Wade last night, and he can barely eat because of the jitters in his stomach. His leg is bouncing the entire time, and he only eats the Mac n’ Cheese, which makes Steve roll his eyes and place more protein on his plate. 

_ Is Wade gonna be there?  _ He’s thinking, giving half-answers to his family, who suddenly want to talk all about his life.  _ Should I show him I turned the shell into a necklace? If he’s not there, should I sneak out again? I want to see him. Jesus, he can’t just do something like that and  _ not  _ ask for my number. Well, I could’ve given him my number. But then again I’m a bottom and I want him to work for me. Stupid, Peter. It’s not because you’re a bottom - some  _ only boys can ask girls out  _ type of thing - you just didn’t do it because you’re a  _ pussy.  _ Yeah, just expose yourself in your head. Not like anyone will know about it.  _

The dinner can’t be over soon enough. Soon they’re walking over, and Peter has to force himself to not full on sprint over and look for Wade like a puppy looking for its owner. 

As they’re walking, Thor falls into a pace next to him. 

“Is this where you met your lover?” he asks casually. He makes sure nobody will hear them. 

Peter blushes. He seems to be doing a lot of that lately. “Yes,” Peter says. He pauses before bringing his hand up to his shell necklace, pulling it out to show Thor. “He gave me this necklace. He said it was beautiful but not as beautiful as me.” 

Thor smiles, smacking him on the back. It takes all of his strength to not go flying into Natasha. “He seems like a wonderful boy!” 

Peter can practically imagine what talking to Thor about his love life - them, sitting on the floor of their Hotel room. Peter is fixing Thor’s hair, while he munches on popcorn and watches a corny rom-com based around a girl who's engaged falling in love with an ex from her past. It’s kind of scary how accurate the picture looks in his head. 

When they get there, Peter takes his pops to the shell cart. Well doesn’t ‘take him,’ but urges them in that direction and goes  _ oh look, pretty shells!  _

He shakes Tony and Steve off there, where Steve starts complaining about how Tony never buys him the cheap, thoughtful things in life anymore. Peter is positive Tony buys the entire cart, but he has no time to know because he goes to lounge around the Mexican food cart - which is kind of weird, but Peter doesn’t want to accidentally offend anybody’s culture so he orders a taco and starts to wander around a bit. 

Peter stops when he comes across a small little amphitheater. There are three drummers on both the left and the right of the stage, beating to a steady rhythm. He sways to it slowly and wonders what type of acts will be going on. There isn’t that much of a crowd, so he goes to sit down in the front row, finishing off his taco and crumpling the trash in his hand. He doesn’t feel like getting up to throw it away, so he stuffs it in his pocket and leaves it there. 

He waits for a few moments, looking around. Soon, the lights are dim and the only thing lit are the drummers and the stage. A man walks on stage, dressed in a tux. The drummers start to beat slowly, and Peter focuses on what the man is doing

He pulls a card from his tux and shows it to the crowd. It a three of spades. At first, Peter thinks the man is going to ask for a volunteer. Do some sort of weird shuffle, and somehow find the card the volunteer picks. But that’s not what happens. Instead, he lets go. 

Peter’s eyes squint, following the card that is drifting towards the floor. The drummers stop. So does the card. Peter watches as the man’s hand closes and the card jerks up, attaching to his fist. 

_ Mutants _ , he thinks.  _ There are mutants here.  _

His shaky hands rub over his thighs, and he doesn’t want to watch anymore. Peter gets up and leaves. 

»»-------------¤-------------««

He finds Clint and Natasha at a bar, both facing each other with flower crowns on their head; sipping on margaritas and laughing to each other. Peter comes up fast, tapping on Natasha’s shoulder. 

“Peter!” She chimes, grinning widely. “We’d love for you to sit with us, but the bar is only 21 and up.”

He huffs deeply, a pain taking place in the middle of his chest. “Is this a vacation? Or is it a mission?” He asks angrily. 

“Woah, kid,” Clint says, putting his margarita down on the bartop. “What do you mean, mission? You know Tony and Steve have wanted some time off for a while now!” 

“Yeah?” He asks. “Well, where are they?” 

Natasha is silent, and Clint’s answer is a stumbled: “W-well, I don’t know.” He pauses. “I’m drunk, I’m sure of it.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I just saw a show of mutants, just find the Mexican stand and keep walking straight.” 

He turns on his heel and storms off. 

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter doesn’t exactly know  _ why  _ he’s mad. 

He doesn’t even know if it’s a coincidence that he ran into mutants. Maybe it is. It’s too late to get a grip of himself, he’s already found a wood-like area of sorts, and is violently walking through it - feet stomping like a child having a tantrum, and smacking branches out of his way. He slows down when he realizes he could be using a stereotype, which he would hate to do. 

Peter stops and growls to himself. “Why can’t everyone be fucking normal?” He then kicks a tree stump, ignoring the pain that lashes out at his toes.

He sits and brings his knees to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. 

Tony and Steve never let him know anything. He’s too precious to them to be in harm's way, even if he’s positive he knows he can handle himself in dangers way. 

He gets up after five minutes after hearing a voice talk. 

“Are you sure nobody would see us?” The voice says. Peter’s ears perk up, and he quickly latches onto a tree to scale it - reaching the top branch. 

He moves the leaves out of the way enough to see what’s going on, but not enough for the people below to see him. 

There is a man and a woman standing facing each other. 

“Relax, bitch,” The man says loudly, and Peter winces for his harsh tone. “I have what you need.” 

The woman crosses her arm and tilts her head up, blonde hair falling down her back. “Don’t call me a bitch,” she demands. “Now, _ where is it _ ?” 

The man looks ready to say something but decides against it. He’s heavy set; his belly hanging over his pelvic bone, and his feet swelling where they take home in his flip-flops. He pulls a small bag tied together by a loose piece of rope out of his back pocket and flings it at her. She catches it with ease. Peter can’t tell her expression since she’s facing away from him. 

“I don’t have time for muties,” He says. 

She swiftly places the bag in the pocket of her coat. “And I don’t have time for the ignorant.” As she pulls her hand out of the pocket, a silencer follows. Before he can react, she’s putting a bullet dead in the middle of his head. 

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter is shaking as he leaves the woods. 

_ whatjusthappenedwhatjusthappened what just  _ fucking  _ happened?  _

He’s just moving until he runs into Wade, and he has no idea when he walked far enough to reach the entrance. The other male sees him and immediately makes himself known - and Peter is shaky and afraid so when Wade comes to him to speak, the smaller male - for God knows what reason - reaches out and wraps his arms around Wade’s neck. He buries his head into the crest of his nest. 

He doesn’t know Wade. 

He just got a shell from him. 

But Peter feels like he can trust him. 

“Hey,” Wade says. Suddenly Peter is sobbing. “You’re okay,” He runs one hand up and down Peter’s back. “You’re okay.” 

_ You’re okay. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my tumblr for any questions / comments / concerns:
> 
> https://blackbanther.tumblr.com/ !
> 
> also go read my cherik fic :) 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163525/chapters/32646222


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ i update using grammarly   
> ~ don't own the characters, just the plot  
> ~ updates come either super fast or slow :(

Witnessing something that you were not supposed to have seen can go two ways. The first being easy to brush off, and the second being something you carry with you like a ghost clinging to your back. Seeing that man get killed in the woods is the ghost to Peter - and even now, as he’s sitting with Wade in front of a fire outside of his foster parents’ home, he can still see it. Even if it was a silencer used, he can still hear it. Still see the body in the aftermath. The way the woman spit on his body before she left…

“So he handed her a bag,” Wade asks. “And just left?”

“Yes,” Peter says. It’s almost weird to speak. Whenever Papa told him war stories - he said he never spoke when somebody died. He didn’t know if it was respect or some sort of shock thing, but he never spoke. Not once. Now, Peter guesses, he knows why. It was just weird to see someone die and then continue living on with their life. “Can we not talk about this?”

“But of course,” Wade says. Peter can’t help but smile at that.

“You sound like some man with one glass eye who wears a top hat when he hits on 19th-century women out of his league,” Peter says. “It’s cute.”

Wade is silent for a moment and when the smaller man looks over, his mouth is curled into a frown. “That’s very specific,” he says. Then he looks to the side and smiles. “Luckily for you, I like specific.”

A snort comes from Peter.

“You’re very odd, Wade Wilson,” Peter says.

Wade stands up from his spot on the log and then stands on top of it. He stretches his arms to the side wide, looking up at the night side. “I am Jesus!” He screams. Peter hears an echo of his voice boom through the night. “For I can be odd, and weird - and do whatever I please!”

Peter is giggling, curling a hand around his ribcage when the front door to his house opens. A short, skinny man steps out. His hair is a chestnut brown mess on the top of his head, his face is slightly worn with age, and he’s wearing a large white t-shirt that stops just above his knees. He can’t tell if he’s wearing any pants beneath it.

“Wade!” The man shouts, covering his eyes and squinting to see him. Wade quickly slips from his place on the log and falls into his seat. “I was sleeping, could you please quiet down?”

“Sorry, Charles!” He screams back. Peter assumes that he is Wade’s foster parent. “I brought someone home, by the way.”

Charles is confused until he looks over and sees Peter. Immediately his face flushes and he lets out a surprised  _ oh.  _ He walks over quickly, and it must be hard on his bare feet since the house...isn’t really a house. It’s a trailer off the side of where Peter met Wade; at a camping site nearby. He steps over roots, and small wooden strips stick to his toes.

“It’s so lovely to meet you,” He says, holding a hand out. Peter shakes his hand with a smile. “Oh, it’s been  _ so long  _ since Wade has made friends - honestly, I thought he was pretending you existed.”

“Me?” Peter asks.

“Well he met someone near the hotel,” Charles says, and Wade is groaning beside them. “I was assuming that was you.”

_ Does Wade talk about me to his foster family?  _ Peter thinks. All three of them have a faint blush splattered across their cheeks, and Peter feels a warmth envelope his heart.

“Yes,” Peter confirms. “That’s me.”

“Charles,” Wade says, stomping his feet like a child. “I didn’t want him to know that I talk about him!”

“Sorry, dear,” Charles says. He then reaches out to comb his fingers through Wade’s hair, even if it's very little. It’s then Peter notices that he’s from a European country. “He’s much more beautiful than you described him to be.”

The older man gives Peter a wink when he says that, nudging Wade’s side with his elbow.

“God,” Wade says, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “You’re so embarrassing.” 

“No, I’m not,” Charles insists, bumping his hip into Wade’s. “I’m a  _ hip  _ dad!” He gives a little laugh and turns around, gesturing for them to follow him. “Come,” He insists. “I made pasta earlier this evening and Logan is probably  _ famished  _ since he trained with Erik earlier this evening.”

Peter tilts his head to the side. “Who are they?” He asks innocently.

“Erik is my other foster dad,” Wade explains. “Logan is my foster brother.”

He shrugs.

They follow Charles into the trailer, and it’s pretty...pretty great, actually. It isn’t that small on the inside. The kitchen takes up the right half of the trailer, and then it blends into the other half of the trailer; which is a living room. There isn’t a couch, there are just large, fluffy blankets draped over the floor with pillows everywhere. There is a boy - man? He seems very old - sleeping on a pile of pillows; mouth draped open and drool coming down the side of his mouth.

“Can you wake up Logan?” Charles asks Wade sweetly, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a long container with lasagna in it. Peter offers to help, but Charles politely rejects his offering.

“You know he hates me,” Wade says.

“That’s not true,” Charles says. “He loves you like his own brother.”

When his foster child rolls his eyes and goes to wake up the sleeping figure, Charles winces and mouths to Peter,  _ that is such a lie! _

Peter giggles and watches as Wade kneels down beside Logan to wake him up. He leans in close, cheek almost touching cheek, and pokes him. There’s almost an immediate response - the man’s eyes snap open and a fist comes flying from underneath the blanket, catching Wade in the jaw. He doesn’t go  _ flying  _ across the room per-say, but he  _ does  _ jerk back violently.

“Hey!” Wade whines, pressing his hand into his jaw and frowning. “I have someone over, stop acting like that!”

Logan sits up from where he’s sitting, exposing his bare chest and itching his hair. He looks over to see Peter, who awkwardly waves. Logan huffs with a smirk, rolling his eyes.

“He’s too cute for you,” He says, making Peter blush. “And he’s probably a virgin. Don’t corrupt his innocence.”

Peter feels a tinge of annoyance at Logan’s comment, but the visual mindset of webbing him up to a wall and then sticking up two middle fingers pleases him enough to not say anything.

“Boys, enough,” Charles says, placing the lasagna’s container on the table. “Go get the plates, Peter doesn’t need to see any of your nonsense.”

Peter wants to say  _ I don’t mind,  _ but he decides to keep quiet. Logan bumps shoulders with Wade as he walks past, which makes him groan but he doesn’t start a sibling brawl for Charles’ sake. Logan brushes past Peter, giving him no time of the day at all. He wonders how Charles can live with two men about three sizes larger than him. He feels like a bird among lions.

Wade and Logan set the table - Logan purposefully setting Peter’s plate and holding out the chair for him to get into. Wade frowns at the sight, and Peter hopes he knows it’s just a joke. Peter  _ likes  _ Wade. He doesn’t exactly know why, but he knows. He feels a murmur in his heart when he looks at Wade - and that’s enough indication to know so.

Charles settles across from Peter, giving him a warm smile as he unfolds a paper towel and drapes it over his lap. Logan and Wade sit on opposite sides of the tables. Logan is to his left, and Wade is to his right.

Wade’s eyes meet his, and he smiles. Wade smiles back.

“So,” Charles breaks the silence as he shoveling pasta onto Peter’s plate. “Are you visiting Hawaii, Peter?”

“Yes,” Peter says, giving a curt nod. His hands are in between his legs, and his knee won’t stay still. “We’re visiting for three weeks.”

“What do your parents do?”

Peter’s face flushes. “Uh, well my dad is a scientist, in the most simple of terms. My pops, well. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“Just spit it out,” Logan says. “We don’t judge.”

“ _ Hey, _ ” both Wade and Charles say. When Charles glares at Logan, Wade leans back. He reaches under the table and squeezes Peter’s thigh gently in support; which makes his face burn a brighter red. “We do not push, if he doesn’t want to tell us anything, he doesn’t  _ have  _ to.”

Logan shrugs and doesn’t speak again.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Peter manages to get out, waving his arms in front of him. “It’s just kind of awkward, yanno? I mean, my dad is Tony Stark and my pops is Steve Rogers. Most of the world knows who they are, yanno? Tony Stark, billionaire playboy slash scientist slash Iron Man, while my dad was under ice for 65 years and was an experiment...Kind of hard to explain, really.  _ And we aren’t conceited about it _ , no - I mean,  _ I’m  _ not, I haven’t done anything to help the world - if they’re even counted as heroes, and I just - yeah.”

Peter’s face must be tomato red right now. He reaches for the glass of water and drinks it down, deciding he should shut up.

“It’s fine, Peter,” Charles reassures. “We don’t judge.”

“Charles is rich too,” Wade spits out randomly. “We just camp in the trailer to look cool.”

Charles says nothing but just shovels more lasagna onto Logan’s plate. “I come from wealth, yes, but that is not the only trait that makes me,  _ me _ .”

“Of course,” Peter says, nodding along. “I agree.”

Wade smiles at him, giving him a thumbs up.

»»-------------¤-------------««

They sit there talking, even when they’ve finished eating a long time ago. Charles gave him the last single serving ice cream to him, which he tried to refuse, but ended up eating anyway. At first, Peter is slightly awkward, not knowing how to enter in conversation; especially if Logan and Wade try to edge into arguing with each other. He ends up becoming more comfortable as Logan tells dumb stories of Wade, making him roll his eyes and say he’s gonna  _ do painful stuff  _ to him during the night.

They stop talking when there’s a knock at the trailer door.

“Who could that be?” Charles asks, walking over to the trailer door with his head tilted to the side.

“Can’t be Erik,” Logan said. “He won’t be back till like one.”

Erik was an entertainer, Charles had told Peter. Mostly out from 8 pm to 1 am. Most of the time Charles, Logan, and Wade stayed with him because  _ family  _ but sometimes they stayed home to rest. This was one of those times.

“I bet it’s the mafia,” Wade whispers to Peter. “Logan probably stole some high tech military equipment.”

Logan didn’t say anything, one arm draped over the back of his chair and the other one raising to flip him off.

“Oh, hello,” Peter hears Charles say. He can’t see who Charles is talking to, because he’s only poking his head out of the door slightly. “May I help you?”

“Hi,” a familiar voice greets. “We’re looking for a boy named Peter.”

Peter groans loudly and smashes his head into the table. Why didn’t he think his dads would come looking for him sooner?

“May I ask who you are?” Charles asks sweetly.

“We’re his parents,” Tony says harshly, and Peter can practically see him puffing out his chest and trying to seem threatening. “We couldn’t find him, and someone said he headed this way. We’ve knocked on about ten trailers.”

That was a lie. They didn’t have to ask anyone where he was. On his phone, which is buried deep and forgotten in his front pocket, there’s a tracker built into it. Something about kidnapping and ransom and terrible people pops had told him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t know!” Charles says. He opens the door wide with a smile. “I’m Charles Xavier, he and my son were by the fire pit over there, and I invited him in. Come in, please.”

Tony enters as if he owns the place, lips slightly twitched down and smoothing down the front of his shirt. Steve follows afterwards, mouthing an apology for his husband; brushing a hand on Charles’ shoulder, who gives him a semi-warm smile.

“Lovely home you have here,” Tony says, voice flat. He looks over to where Peter is. The son’s forehead is pressed into the table, and it makes his father roll his eyes.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Steve says, walking to the table. He leans over it to tap on his son’s head. It would’ve been harsher if they were home since he knew Peter has enhanced healing factors, but it would look like abuse to everyone else. Peter looks up with sad eyes, a small pout on his face. “You have some explaining to do. We’re going  _ home. _ ”

“But pops-”

“No buts,” Peter gets up from his seat and gives a sad smile to Wade, shrugging one shoulder. He walks over to Tony, who wraps an arm around him in comfort but to also thump him in the ear.

“I’m so sorry for this,” Steve tells Charles. “We have no problem with you all, but we didn’t know where he was since he disappeared without telling us, and we were very rattled. I would love to meet you guys, though, just not now.”

Charles gives a nod of the head. “Of course, I would be out of it too, if my children went missing. Please, you can see yourselves out.”

“You are in so much trouble,” Tony tells Peter. “God, what were you thinking?”

They soon leave the trailer, and Charles is left frowning.

»»-------------¤-------------««

The walk back to the apartment is silent. Tony’s arm is still wrapped around his son, and Steve is walking in front of them with long strides they have to catch up to. Peter doesn’t know what time it is, but to him, it seems as if Hawaii has no time at all. It is just one big blur of days that have interconnected together. When they get back to the hotel, Peter assumes the punished position.

It seems like only hours ago he was in this spot. Head hung low, hands fidgeting in his lap, while two of the Avengers stood over him, arms crossed. Clint and Thor were now replaced with his two father’s, who wouldn’t let him off as easily as the two before did.

“What happened?” Steve asks, poking Peter underneath this chin so he has to look up at him. “Nat and Clint told us you went up to them to yell about Avengers business, and how we left you in the dark before you stormed off.”

“It was nothing,” Peter says, giving a small shrug. He hadn’t thought about the man he had seen put down in the woods until now. “I just...saw a really good magic trick.”

“Magic trick?” Tony asks, unamused. “A magic trick? Peter, this doesn’t explain why you were yelling at Nat and Clint for being on business. Was it a mutant or something? Because if it is, you have to tell us, kid. It’s our vacation, sure, but if there’s any threat to the community here, you have to tell us. It’s our job.”

Peter thinks before responding. Very surprising, actually. He still remembers the man vividly. There was no way that man was a human. Maybe he was genetically experimented on, maybe he’s a mutant - but either way, Peter is judging him when he doesn’t even know him, and Steve made sure to implant in his brain how wrong it was to judge someone who you knew nothing about. Also, he didn’t want his family focusing on a possible threat (which he probably wasn’t, not all mutant want to end the world like Sebastian Shaw once tried doing) instead of focusing on him.

So basically, Tony was mutant-phobic, even if Peter himself could fall under the mutant category, and would spend his time trying to bring that man down. He would go into work-mode, which would depress not only Peter but also Steve.

“No,” Peter says after a pregnant pause, swiping his hands in the air. “I thought so, but then I saw how the trick was done, and it ended up being totally mundane. Some weird sort of magnetic thing, or whatever. I just thought it was a mutant at first and lashed out on Nat and Clint because I thought you guys were here on work.”

Tony doesn’t really buy it, but it’s enough for Steve.

Before Tony speaks, Peter plays the innocent child card to get them out of his hair: “I just didn’t want you to be on work since I rarely get to spend time with you guys, and that would get in the way of things.”

Steve gives a sad smile to Peter before cupping the back of his neck and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “It’s okay, Pete,” He reassures. “We’re strictly on family time, right, Tony?”

Tony seems mad. He always seems mad, but he seems more mad than usual tonight. “Yeah, Steve, family time.” He pauses though. “But you have to know we’re always on business time, right Peter? I know we aren’t around a lot because kicking ass or whatever - but you need to know we aren’t just protecting you, but the rest of the world.”

And, wow. Peter didn’t realize how much that would hurt him.

“So, no matter what,” Peter starts, dodging when Tony tries to give a kiss to his forehead like Steve did. “I’m still going to be put second?”

“No, Peter-” 

“Save it,” Peter stands up and walks from the room. He pauses in the doorway. “Goodnight pops.”

He then goes to his room with Clint and Thor. Natasha is sitting with them at the table of their eating area. He ignores them trying to greet him and makes a beeline for his bed.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Erik comes home around two o’clock. He isn’t in his mock uniform anymore but in a pair of grey sweatpants and a black beater. Erik doesn’t notice that Charles is waiting for him until after he pulls a beer from the fridge.

“Sweetheart,” Charles starts, standing up from his position near the boys and walking over to him. “I missed you.”

“I didn’t see you there,” Erik chuckled. Charles crossed the room and the taller man enveloped him in a large embrace. “How was your night? What are you doing up so late?”

Charles shrugs as Erik presses a small kiss to the side of his cheek. “Well, I’m up because of how my day went.”

Erik went tense, squeezing Charles closer to him. “Well, what happened? Do I have to murder somebody?”

“You know,” Charles starts, gently putting one hand on top of Erik’s chest. “I don’t appreciate you killing people for me. The first time was the last,”

“Well, I would do it again,” Erik says seriously.

Charles already knows this.

“You don’t have to, but I would say we have a bit of a problem on our hands.” Charles wraps his arms around Erik’s waist and follows him to the table at the kitchen. Erik sits on a chair, and Charles climbs into his lap so they’re able to speak. “Wade made a little...friend, of sorts. I found them outside by the bonfire, talking. He seemed frazzled, and well...You understand why I use my powers on random strangers that seem to cross our path. I was glad I did because he seems to have seen something he wasn’t supposed to.”

_ Like what?  _ Erik projects, looking Charles in the eye as he takes a sip of his beer.

“He saw Raven,” Charles says. “Raven, killing a man who handed her something. I looked even deeper into his personal life, and his adopted fathers are none other than Iron Man and Steve Rogers. If he told them what happened, well...we could get in trouble. You know how hard Tony is against mutants, which is funny since his son is one himself.”

“Wait a minute,” Erik says, setting his beer on the table and wrapping his now free arm around Charles. “So Raven is here?” Charles nods. “And Iron Man’s son is a mutant?”

“Yes,” Charles says. “I don’t think Tony Stark would count him as a mutant, but I pretty much learned everything about his child, Peter, when we were eating dinner together. He was bitten by a radioactive spider, which altered his DNA. I’m sure his father would bury that deep down, not call him a mutant; but the definition of a mutant is having altered DNA. He seems to fall into our category.”

“And Raven?”

Charles shrugs. “Well, Peter doesn’t know her. All I saw was her in her human form, gunning down a man after they had an exchange. I soothed his mind enough for him to forget about it for a while, not enough to erase it. He already has suspicions that there are mutants in our area.”

Erik snorts. “And why is that?”

His husband gives him a small kiss on his nose. “He saw your show, darling.”

“Darn,” Erik says rolling his eyes.

“I would worry about it,” Charles says, combing his fingers through Erik’s hair. “I suggest we get on the Stark’s family good side, and just leave Raven to do as she pleases. My life of chasing after her, trying to help her are over. I just want to be with my family.”

“My job is to give you what you want,” Erik says. Charles puts his head on the man’s shoulder. “So I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

There’s a pause.

“You are not allowed to mess around with Tony Stark using your abilities, Lehnsherr,” Charles suddenly says. “You seem to forget mating with a telepath lets them know all your intentions.”

Erik rolls his eyes. “It’s a gift and a curse.”

Charles gives a dramatic gasp and tries to stand up but Erik whines and brings him down into his lap. The smaller male of the two struggles against his hold, but gives up when the famed manipulator of metal kisses him deeply.

They’ll handle the situation with the Stark’s later. For now, they have peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long to update! was kind of busy. it's the weekend, so after school stuff is done i'm gonna try to post chapters 4 & 5\. i don't know how many chapters there are, as i haven't done an outline, but i'll try to do an outline if i can :) 
> 
> ! at least my chapters are super long !
> 
> hope you've been enjoying it. comments help motivate me to keep updating sooo go ahead and do it if you feel like it 
> 
> ~
> 
> follow my tumblr for an q/c/c
> 
> blackbanther.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ i use grammarly to edit  
> ~ characters don't belong to me
> 
> WARNING: this is about to get fluffy as fuck.

Peter decides to stay home from sightseeing the next day.

Breakfast is like normal, yet somehow tense; Tony seating away from Peter and Steve - who would never ignore his child - and sitting beside Thor, who he proceeded to have a conversation with. It kind of hurt Peter, and it definitely pissed Steve off, but that’s how Tony worked. If he hurt someone’s feelings, he ignores them until he’s forced to apologize or they get over it. The only person he seemed to ever care about was Steve. And sure, Peter was his son and all, but deep down he knew no matter what his father just didn’t care.

“Hey,” Steve nudges him gently on the shoulder, pointing his fork to Peter’s plate. “You have yet to touch your plate, c’mon. We’re going to be out in the sun all day, I don’t need you getting sick like you did in California.”

For some reason, Peter can feel a sting in the back of his eyes, a constriction around his heart, and an empty feeling in his stomach. He just wants to be alone.

“I kind of want to stay in the hotel room today,” He whispers quietly, looking down at his laps. “I don’t feel good.”

Steve wasn’t dumb.

He knew Peter was perfectly healthy and had been wishing to see the National Park for some time now. He also knew there was something nagging me in his brain that was making him insecure, and all he wanted to do was to be swallowed up by a hole that wouldn’t appear.

Peter was just like Tony, whether the two of them knew it or not.

“Okay,” Steve says, reaching down to squeeze his son’s hand. “I’ll tell them you have a stomachache. Just please tell me if you leave, and you know we’re going to have a  _ long  _ talk when we get back.”

His son nods his head, unable to speak.

Steve kisses his forehead and allows Peter to leave without a word - giving a pointed glare at Tony when he goes to say something.

Sometimes, you have to give in a little when it comes to handling your children’s sadness. Even if it hurts you.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter didn’t do anything when he got back to the hotel room.

It was silent, and he was laying down on the bed with his arms folded behind his head - acting as a pillow. He hadn’t gotten dressed up for breakfast this morning, which meant he was still in his pajamas. They consisted of Hello Kitty sweatpants, and an overly large white t-shirt his father had given him when they went to Central Park and a bird took a dump all over his shoulder.

Thinking of the memory soothes the pain in his chest for a little bit, so he tries to think of other memories that will help him untie the knot that lays tangled in his chest.

He remembers when he was first able to ride a bike on his own. Steve was holding a video tape recorder in one hand, the other covering his mouth as he cried silently on his own.

Tony was behind Peter, hands on the boy’s small hips and gliding him along - letting him know he was safe, and if he were to topple over; his father would be there to catch him. They had been practicing for months but they anxiety that had built up in the child was too great for him, so whenever his father let go, he immediately cramped up, jerked violently, and ran himself into one of the many bushes that lined the back of the Avengers HQ.

“Papa please don’t let go,” Peter had said. His voice was still squeaky and high; filled with innocence. “I don’t wanna get hurt.”

“I won’t, bud,” Tony promises. “You can trust me.”

Peter trusts him, but he can’t help but let a small whine build up in the back of his throat. He stopped using training wheels only three weeks ago, and he was still worried he would go flying from not having all the support he could get.

“We’re gonna go a little faster,” Tony tells him. His steady pace on the pavement builds up slightly, and Peter can feel the wind pick up; blowing past his ears and making them turn red from the nip it gives as it passes. “Do you like going fast?”

Peter doesn’t speak. His face is scrunched up, annoyed from the way the air blows into his face. He’s too scared to speak. There are long miles of land stretched out in front of him, and there’s prominent threat of danger - but he can still feel the fear bubbling underneath his skin.

“Just think of it as you’re flying,” Tony tells him. “Remember how you asked me what it felt like to fly in my suit? This is the same thing, but on the ground - and you’re me. And you’re flying, except you’re still on the ground. Nothing to worry about, Pete. This is freedom.”

The words soothe the toxic feeling that’s eating away at his insides. He smiles as he finally allows himself to relax for once - focusing on the quickly blurred focus of the ground skidding past him. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest, and his eyes slightly squint from looking up at the sun, but it seems like everything is showering him in a feeling he won’t be able to experience until his father makes him a mini-model Iron Man suit - until he goes on the field trip to Oscorp and gets bitten by a radioactive spider that turns him into a bendy, web-shooting, wannabe superhero the world is yet to see.

Steve catches on tape Tony letting go of Peter. The camera is shaking slightly, and you can hear his pops whimpering off-screen, while Tony looks at the camera and motions for Steve to shut up and  _ get it together, Captain, our kid is adorable and awesome. _

It makes Peter feel better, but also worse at the same time - remembering a point in his life where his father used to be his hero. Now, it’s like...he barely knows Tony. The minute he turned 13 his father slowly progressively stopped being by his side all the time. And yeah, sometimes it’s not necessary to be by your kid, but…he misses him. And he’s not just mad to be mad; not just mad he said Peter had to share him with the rest of the world. He’s mad because he feels as if he doesn’t even have a dad anymore.

Which is dumb to him, but he already went through growing up without his biological parents and then seeing his Aunt and Uncle die in front of him when he was three. That shit sticks with you. The brain picks and chooses what memories it wants to keep, and for some reason, that tiny kid shaking behind Queen’s best sandwich shop chose to pick that one.

For some reason. It’s probably about learning and growing, or whatever.

Peter gets sick of thinking about it; so he turns on the TV, watches some reruns of The Jersey Shore, and falls asleep.

»»-------------¤-------------««

He’s awoken by the sound of a loud, prominent knock.

Peter rolls over in the bed, his stomach grumbling from emptiness and his brain feeling as if it’s tucked within a roll of cotton. He slowly stretches, feeling his bones crack. The young male gets off of the bed by rolling himself off, and he lands on the floor in a pushup position. There’s another loud and prominent knock on the door, so he gets up and walks over to open it. It couldn’t possibly be his parents. They would’ve just walked in unannounced. Maybe it was room service or something.

He opens it, and it’s Wade. He’s wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian t-shirt that glows a bright pink, and he’s wearing baby blue swim shorts that clash terribly with it. His feet are bare, and it seems to be he’s tracked sand into the hotel.

Peter smiles at him, feeling sluggish.

“No shoes?” Is all he says.

“Nope,” Wade says. “I don’t really care for shoes. They just seem to restrain us.”

“Against what?” Peter asks, masking a quiet yawn behind his fist before continuing. “Accidentally stepping on glass?”

The taller male doesn’t reply. He gives Peter a two-handed finger gunshot, a wink, and then brushes past him. He jumps onto Peter’s bed, making it creak loudly, and crosses his legs Indian style. Peter closes the door behind him, biting his lip slightly.

“Why are you here?” He asks.

“Why are you wearing Hello Kitty pj’s?”

Peter blushes brightly and looks down at himself, realizing he’s still fully dressed in his embarrassing night-time attire. “My dad got them for me?”

Wade can’t help but snort. “That’s cute.”

“Whatever,” Peter scoffs, feeling warmth wrap around his heart. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Wade says. “You’re here, baby boy. Why else would I not be here?”

It’s dropped so casually Peter almost doesn’t even notice, but it’s too grand and bold of a saying for him not to notice.

_ Baby boy,  _ he thinks. Wade called him baby boy. He stumbles over his thought process for a while, a silent saying stuck in the back of his throat as his lips part slightly to speak forgotten words.  _ Baby boy. Baby boy, baby boy, baby boy.  _ He doesn’t know how he feels about Wade saying it, but he sure wouldn’t mind having those words on repeat for a little while. 

“Baby boy,” He ends up saying. And he wants someone to kill him at the moment because he’s speaking, but it’s like there’s two different Peter’s - the Peter who’s speaking, and the conscious Peter who’s screaming at him to shut the fuck up. “Huh?”

Wade is smirking, and it seems to be he knows he pretty much fried Peter’s brain. “Yeah,” he says. “Baby boy. Do you not like it?”

“No,” Peter says. Wade goes to frown, and Peter swipes his hand as if this is a movie and he can rewind, press play, and change what he wanted to say. “I mean - No, I like it. It’s just...I’ve never really been called anything sort of…”

He cuts himself off by blushing.

“Nobody’s ever given you a pet name?”

Peter shrugs, walking over the couch near the TV and sitting down. He brings his knees up to his chest, rests his chin on it, and hugs his legs. “I don’t know,” He says, honestly. “I mean, my parents have. I’ve just never really flirted with anyone, or...noticed anyone before, I guess?”

There’s a small pause.

“Have you noticed me?”

Peter tilts his head to the side in confusion. “What?”

“Have you noticed me?” Wade asks.

Peter remembers the shell, and the fire, and eating dinner with him - all the small glances they gave each other during that small period of time.

“Yes,” He responds. “I have noticed you.”

“That’s good,” Wade says.

Peter hums under his breath, looking away from Wade’s intense eyes and down to the carpeted floor of his hotel room. “You never answered my question.”

“Oh,” Wade says. “Didn’t I?”

“You just said you’re here because I’m here,” Peter snorts. “By the way, you have a good memory. I can barely even remember where this room is, and this is my home for the next three weeks.”

“Almost a month,” Wade muses. “I’ve been here for a little over a year, now. Don’t know when we’re going back to Charles’ wee small town in England, where I can sit in the lap of luxury.”

Wade talking about going back to Charles’ home reminds Peter that the two of them aren’t going to know each other forever. Peter is going to leave in three weeks back to New York, and Wade is going to disappear from his life as if he never even knew him. The mere thought alone makes the young man shift on his feet awkwardly. He doesn’t really like getting attached to people and saying goodbye, but if he lived his life isolated from the world, that wouldn’t be living - regardless of what Tony thinks.

“That’s cool,” Peter says, hasty to switch the conversation topic. “But again, you never answered my question. Why are you here?”

Wade seems to get Peter is uncomfortable with the conversation so he lets it slide. “My family and I are having a day at the beach,” he says. “It’s around ten minutes away from here, and I want to know if you would come?”

A blush Peter doesn’t want splashes across his cheeks. “Me?” He asks lamely.

“Yes, you. Who else would I invite?”

“I don’t know,” Peter says. “I’ve never been invited somewhere before unless it’s a school field trip or it’s my parents taking me somewhere.”

“Geez,” Wade says. “It’s like you live under a rock. I thought your dads were Iron Man and Captain America?”

_ That makes it all the more reason to live under a rock,  _ Peter thinks.  _ Steve literally cries if I’m two minutes past curfew, and Tony would stab anyone who made a move on me. _

“Yeah,” is what’s said instead. “But nobody is being forced to like me just because my parents are superheroes. In fact, I’m sure there are millions of people out there who hate me because my parents exist. They don’t even like people knowing I exist because they don’t want some psycho kidnapping me, or killing me, in order to get to them.”

Peter’s uncomfortable again. 

“But yeah,” He says before Wade can make a comment. “I’ll go to the beach with you. I just have to grab my stuff and call my dad.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter didn’t bother to unpack any of his things because he’s: one, a lazy boy and two, he’s going to pack it all up at the end of the vacation anyways. It’s one large suitcase filled with everything he needs - swimming clothes, pj’s, resting clothes, sunblock, deodorant, shaving cream, a razor...honestly, he’s surprised there isn’t a butler in there popping out every time he opens it, asking what he could get for Peter. Kind of like JARVIS, but not.

He pushes Wade out into the hallway, asking for privacy, and his embarrassment grows by the second as he’s flinging all of his resting clothes out of the way, trying to pick out the nicest swimming wear he has. He ends up just picking out his dark red swimming shorts and a navy blue button up and putting it on, leaving the button up open. He doesn’t know why he’s decided to suddenly bare his body to the world, and it’s slightly uncomfortable, but maybe the sun warming his skin will help relax him.

After brushing his teeth quickly, and putting a travel sized bottle of sunblock in his pocket beside his cell phone. Steve had called him after he texted him, making sure he was okay.

“Make sure to apply sunblock thirty minutes before you get in the water,” He instructed Peter. “And then apply it every forty-five minutes, remember the last time you got a sunburn? You started crying.”

“I was eight,” Peter says. “When I was eight, I cried over everything.”

“Oh I know,” Steve replies, before pitching his voice to mock a younger child.” _ Dad, dad, dad! There’s a spider in the corner! Help! _ ”

Peter lets out a whine in the back of his throat and stomps his foot slightly. “Don’t make fun of me, I love spider’s now.”

“Yes, because you are one.”

“Okay, dad,” Peter says, huffing softly. “Can I go now? I forced Wade into the hallway.”

“Peter Stark,” Steve says sternly. “Why?”

“I didn’t want him to see me change,” Peter says, embarrassed. “I just don’t want to keep him waiting for too long.” 

A pause.

“Do you like him?”

And Peter doesn’t even have to think before responding, “Yes.”

“Okay,” Steve says simply. “As long as he’s good to you. Have fun, and I love you.”

“Love you too,”

“Love you more,”

Peter smiles. “Bye, pops.”

“There was a time you would fight to win the who loves who more challenge.”

“One day,” Peter says. “I just gave up because you always beat me. Anyways, I’m going to go now.”

“Love you,” Steve says one last time.

“Love you too.”

Peter exits the room, rubbing his arms. He didn’t really need a bag since he wasn’t planning to go in the water, but he was still concerned he would lose his phone or break it. He pauses at the door before throwing his phone on the bed and leaving existing the door.

»»-------------¤-------------««

The walk to the beach is filled with accidentally bumping each other’s hands, giggling to themselves, and empty chatter to fill in the time spent walking. They talk a bit about music, and Wade goes on for five minutes about how he’s named after a Fall Out Boy song.

“Wilson,” Wade goes. “Expensive Mistakes. It’s by Fall Out Boy. I’ve been playing it a lot lately so that would be my favorite song of all time. Also, I’m named after it.”

Peter blinks and then tilts his head up at Wade. “You’re 18?” He asks.

“Yup,” Wade says.

“Then there’s no way you were named after the song,” Peter says. “I’m absolutely 100% positive that the song came out this year.”

“January 11th, to be specific,” Wade says.

“Then how could you  _ possibly  _ be named after the song if it came out this year?”

“Touche,” Wade responds. “What’s your favorite song?”

Peter thinks about it for a minute before responding. “Best Friend,” He says.

“I get I’m your best friend, Pete,” Wade responds. “But what’s your favorite song?”

The smaller male gives a snort and smacks his hand against Wade’s chest, unable to  _ not  _ notice the hard muscle his fingers brush against.

“Best Friend by Rex Orange County,” Pete says. “ _ I still wanna be your favorite boy, I wanna be the one that makes your day, the one you think about when you lie awake - And I can’t wait to be your number...number one,” _

“Cute,” Wade smirks. “I like how you sing.”

“My dad loves to sing,” Peter says, remembering all the times as a kid he did homework in Tony’s lab and how his father would sing along to whatever song was on JARVIS’ “Repeatedly Played by Tony” playlist. “I somehow picked it up along the way.”

Wade nods his head and hums. “By the way, can I ask who is who? I just call Charles and Erik by their name because well...they haven’t adopted me, so. Also, I’m of age so technically I don’t even  _ need  _ to be in foster care, but I have my reasons to stay.”

“Iron Man is dad, and Captain is pops,” Peter explains before pausing. He almost asks why Charles and Erik haven’t adopted him, or why he hasn’t moved out, but then decides against it. He remembers when he was still in the transiting of being adopted, and how Peter was always called an Orphan on the playground. Asking why you haven’t been adopted is the equivalent to kicking a puppy in the face - you shouldn’t do it. It’s wrong.

“Cool,” Wade hums.

There’s an awkward silence, but they’ve finally made it onto the beach grounds. When they reach sand territory, Peter slips off his flip-flops and holds them in his hand.

“Didn’t bring a bag?” Wade asks.

Peter shakes his head.

“Why not?”

“I just need sunscreen, and that’s about it. What else would I need?”

“Uh,” Wade says, gesturing to the ocean. “A towel. You can’t exactly have fun at the beach without getting wet.”

“I don’t swim,” Peter immediately responds. “I just...don’t exactly like the water.”

“Well,” Wade says, slinging his arms over the younger man’s shoulders. “Seems to me like I’m going to fix that.”

Peter blushes from the close contact and rolls his eyes. “Sure,” He responds. “You do that.”

Wade’s family is set up near the edge of the water. Logan seems to be asleep, again - laying down flat, shirt off, and shorts damp. Sunglasses cover his eyes, and his arms are tucked behind his head. Charles is sitting slightly across from him, tucked under a man’s arms - who most likely is Erik - and reading along to the book that lays in his lap. Charles glances up when Wade clears his throat to make their presence known, and his face lights up at the sight of Peter.

“Peter!” Charles chirps, smiling widely. He doesn’t stand, but he hits the chest of his husband beside him, who grunts before making eye contact with Erik. “Erik, this is Peter. He’s the friend of Wade’s I was mentioning to you last night.”

“Oh,” is all that comes from Erik’s mouth. Peter feels uncomfortable in the way he looks at him. It’s almost as if he’s studying him, the way Tony studies Nick Fury whenever they cross paths. “Hello, Peter. I’ve heard tons about you.”

Something about Wade’s family knowing who he is and talking about him makes him blush.

“Hello,” Peter says. “Mr…?”

“Lehnsherr,” He says. “But you can call me Erik if you prefer.”

“Okay, Mr. Lehnsherr,” Peter says, and it’s so obvious he’s Steve Rogers’ son it’s nearly  _ painful.  _ “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Erik’s lips curl up at the boy’s politeness. “It’s a pleasure to meet someone so nice, Peter. Maybe you can teach Wade some manners.”

“Manners, schmammers,” Wade says, kneeling down on the ground beside Logan. “Now that the awkward meet-and-greet is over, can we have some fun?”

Peter smiles awkwardly as he watches Wade scoop up sand into his palms and let it seep through his fingers and fall onto Logan’s face. He doesn’t move, so Wade continues to scoop up as much sand as he can before throwing it at his foster brother.

“Wade,” Charles says, and it sounds exactly how Steve says Tony’s name when he does something dumb or irritable. “Stop doing that, you could get sand in his nose or something.”

“If sand gets in his nose, that’ll make it ten times better.”

Wade continues to scoop sand onto Logan’s face, and by now, his face is practically unrecognizable with the pile that’s building up in the hallow curves of his eyes. Peter was still standing, not knowing where to put himself. Charles seemed to have noticed so he looked over to Peter, slid his sunglasses over his head, and flashed a bright smile at him as he kindly told him to sit down.

“Sit down, Peter,” Charles says kindly. “It must be uncomfortable to be standing, and you’re directly in the heat.”

Peter didn’t recognize the sun until Charles made it known. His skin felt warm, and he remembered what his father said. He hadn’t put sunblock on at the hotel because he was worried about Wade for too long, but he didn’t feel comfortable putting sunblock on in front of everyone.

He gave Charles a small smile as he shuffled underneath the large umbrella hovering them and sat down, curling his knees into his chest. 

“Did you bring a towel, dear?” Charles asks, frowning at Peter’s state.

“Uh,” Peter says, blinking. “No. I don’t really do water.”

Maybe it’s his powers that stopped him from liking water. You know, the whole  _ itsy bitsy  _ spider lullaby about the spider being washed out. He used to love the pool and the beach as a kid, but now he can barely stand being in water without his senses become over heightened and freaking him out.

“Yes,” Wade says mid-scoop, using one hand to point at Peter while he stares at Charles with widened eyes. “Charles, you have to get him in the water. Please, dude. I promise it’s not for wanking material! I can’t imagine being on a beach and having fun without being wet like the ocean is the main entertainment!”

Peter was shocked at the way Wade spoke to his foster parents, even if they didn’t seem too surprised. Erik was barely paying attention, giving small annoyed glances Wade’s way, and Charles letting out a little scoff and crossing his arms. If Tony had heard what had just come from Wade’s mouth, he’d be a pile of ashes on the ground about now.

“I cannot force him to go into the water,” Charles says. “I would  _ never  _ force him into the water, either. You seriously need to understand boundaries, Wade Wilson. I thought I had raised you better than that.”

“You didn’t raise me at all,” Wade says. He moves onto the next sentence quickly, but Peter can see the way Charles’ blue eyes drop down and sadness seeps into them. He feels bad, but he wouldn’t say anything about it. “I just want to go into the water, and if I do, then I’d be a bad host.”

Peter was starting to feel even more uncomfortable as if he weren’t supposed to be here.

There’s a tense moment of silence before Wade sighs dramatically.

“Well, I guess I  _ don’t  _ have to go into the ocean if Peter doesn’t.” Wade looks over to him, and there’s slight disappointment on his face that makes Peter’s heart fall. “Do you like volleyball?”

Peter chews on his lip, before deciding against his own wishes and replying, “Actually, maybe I could go in the ocean. How bad could it be?”

Wade gets so excited he jumps up and then kicks Logan square in the ribs - who rolls over onto his stomach as the sand falls off his face and back onto the ground.

“Wilson!” Logan yells, and it’s almost equivalent to a dog growling and then reaching out to bite his owner.

“C’mon, get  _ up!  _ Peter is here, and he wants to go swimming.”

“Go fuckin’ swim then,” Logan snips angrily. “I don’t need to be apart of your wanking fantasy.”

Peter’s face burns bright as Wade bends down and continuously pokes at his foster brother’s side. He must’ve hit a sensitive spot because when his knuckle digs in deep to Logan’s hip, a hairy arm reaches out and grips Wade’s wrist tightly.

“Alright!” He all but screams, and then he’s rolling over and twisting Wade’s arm. He doesn’t submit though, and soon Wade is facing Logan, his arm all but a twisted towel in his hand. “I’ll go!”

“Yay!” Wade cheers, and when his arm is free, Peter can see a bloody scratch on the side of his forearm. Wade swipes at it, making the blood cross his skin, and Peter looks up to the taller male, who just shrugs like it’s nothing.

“Alright,” He says as Logan stands up slowly, walking over to Peter and grabbing his bicep. “Let’s get in the water before he changes his mind.”

Peter blushes when Wade lets go of his hand and pulls off his Hawaiian shirt. He’s, to be quite frank,  _ beautiful.  _ There’s a nasty scar down the middle of his chest, stopping right before his belly button, and small little cuts that aren’t healed peppering his skin. It doesn’t bother Peter, and neither does the one on his face. Wade is too good of a person to judge based off of looks, which aren’t bad... _ at all.  _ He’s large. Not as big as his pops are from the super soldier serum, but he’s still big - pecs bulging and abs sculpted from the Greek God’s themselves.

Peter clears his throat and looks down as he slips his own shirt off. He isn’t built, but he has the body of an acrobat - his back is skinny, his shoulders are broad, and he a light raise of muscle lining along his stomach. He isn’t the  _ best,  _ but from looking at the sizes of Wade’s hands, he’s almost positive the man could wrap them around his hips and have his fingers touch. 

“Okay,” He says, looking up to Wade. The taller male was also checking Peter out but didn’t stop until Peter crossed his arms over his chest. Wade looked up at him and smiled. And  _ God _ are his teeth gorgeous. “I’m ready.”

“Awesome!”

Wade takes his hand, and Peter can’t help but notice there’s no longer a cut where the smeared blood dried on his arm.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“I like him,” Charles hums, watching as Wade all but pulls Peter to the water. Logan lags behind, shielding himself from the sun and squinting after the two teens. “He’s a very bright boy. Honestly, Erik. He’s already taken note of Wade’s mutation,”

Erik flips a page of his book, humming. “And how is that, Charles?”

“Well,” Charles said. “He saw a cut on Wade and noticed it’s no longer there. His mind truly is beautiful.”

“Don’t go hitting on children, Charles.”

The younger man’s face flushes with annoyance and he turns to hit his husband on the chest.

“You are disgusting,” he says. “I’m going to get an ice cream cone.”

Charles stands up and brushes some sand off of his shorts, pulling the knee-length cardigan closer to his body. “By the way,” He says. “I’m only paying attention to Peter to make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”

Erik looks up from his book, raising an eyebrow at Charles. “How many times must I tell you,” He reaches upwards and squeezes his husbands thigh gently. “Your mutation is not a problem, Charles. I know you’re a good person and would never use it to abuse authority.”

“I feel like Tony Stark wouldn’t feel the same.”

“Fuck Tony Stark,” Erik scoffs, letting go. “Don’t think about him. Now go along, fetch your ice cream.”

“And you call me the old man,” Charles says, rolling his eyes and smiling in adoration. He leans down to press a soft kiss to his husband's cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you more,”

And yes, he does.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter doesn‍’t like water.

Peter really, really,  _ really  _ does  _ not  _ like water.

When he first steps into the ocean, it feels cold. Something in the back of his brain screams in alarm, and he jerks back from the water, stepping back onto the sand. A shiver shoots down his spine and he curls inwards on his body, hands shaking slightly.

“Woah,” Wade says from where he stands, water pooling around his ankles. He reaches out and presses a warm hand onto Peter’s bicep, which relaxes him. “You don’t like water at all, do you?”

“I just…” Peter blushes furiously and steps away from the older male. “The last time I was in the water, I had my pops with me. Something about water just scares me. He basically held me the entire time...I only was okay because I felt safe...I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t say sorry.”

Wade steps out of the water and closer to Peter. He’s less tense out of the water but still alarmed.

“Hey,” Wade says softly, putting one hand on the boy's shoulder. “Do you want to stay out, or?”

“I mean,” Peter stumbles across his words. “I wanna, but...I’m... _ scared.  _ I guess…”

“Can I help you?”

“Help me?” He tilts his head to the side. “How?”

Wade lets go of his shoulder and then hesitates to move. “Can I touch you?”

Peter’s face flushes a darker red than before, and never before is he glad to be on a beach so it can be mistaken as a sunburn. “Uh. Yeah, I guess.”

Wade moves behind him, and Peter tenses, but that normal alarm that goes off in his head doesn’t start to scream. He picks Peter up in his arms, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other arm going underneath his knees. Peter curls and arm around Wade’s neck and blushes as he steps into the water.

“Don’t worry,” Wade says. His breath tickles Peter’s ear. “You’re fine. You’re practically a baby bird, dude. I could carry you for hours.”

_ I could probably carry you,  _ Peter thinks, remembering the time he lifted a 2,000-pound container of water in Tony’s lab.  _ If you knew about my powers. _

Wade walks through the water until his waist deep. Logan is somewhere off beside them, laying on his back and just floating. When he sees Peter looking at him, he gives the boy a thumbs up. Maybe he isn’t such an asshole Wade makes him out to be.

“Touch the water,” Wade says, nudging his head towards Peter’s free hand. “Just slightly. You’re fine, cause I’m a boss ass bitch, and I’m here to protect you.”

Peter laughs softly and then looks down at the water beneath them. Since Wade is tall, he’s gone into the deep end - the clear water having past them a while ago. He hesitates before dropping his arm. His index finger is curled into his palm, so it’s barely touching the water.

He looks to Wade, who’s staring at him.

“Go ahead,” Wade reassures. “You’re fine. You’ll be loving water by the end of the day.”

Peter bites his lip and looks back to the water, his bangs falling into his face. He doesn’t know what he expects when his finger hits the water. Maybe an explosion? The world to end? He doesn’t know. What he doesn’t expect, is for nothing to happen.

He watches in fascination as his finger dips into the water, small rings coming out in waves as he does so. He doesn’t jerk back in alarm, or scream, or start a fit - he just. He just looks.

“Nothing happened,” He whispers, looking over to Wade. “Wasn’t something supposed to happen?”

“No,” Wade says, smiling softly. “Nothing happens. It’s just water.”

And suddenly Peter wants to cry from how nice Wade is. Here he is, waist deep in the ocean, holding a small boy who’s deadly terrified of the water for whatever reason. He doesn’t make fun of him, doesn’t get annoyed, and doesn’t do anything to make the boy uncomfortable. He’s just accepting him and making him feel wanted.

A “thank you,” comes from Peter, and it sounds as if he’s gotten the wind knocked out of him.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Wade had jokingly asked if he was ready to start swimming in the deeper ends of the ocean, which had received a death glare from the boy in his arms. He had decided against it and gone to the edge of the ocean, where water curled upwards in thin, small waves and crashed against the sand.

“I’m putting you down now,” Wade had said gently, but until Peter gave a signature of approval, he kept him in his arms. After a nod, he placed Peter on his feet slowly - allowing the boy to first press his big toe into the wet sand, then the ball of his foot, and before he knew it, he was standing. He allowed his arm to fall from Wade’s neck, run down his arm, and then squeeze the taller man’s palm tightly. He let it rest there, and Wade said nothing.

“This isn’t bad,” He said quietly, watching as the water curled up and splashed against his ankles. “I mean, it’s not swimming, but the water isn’t  _ bad _ .”

How they end up sitting in the water, Wade forgets. All he knows is that Peter is in between his legs, chest resting against him, and drawing in the sand using his index finger. All he can notice is the small dusted freckles that splatter underneath his eyes, and the dark brown eyes that shine in the sun, and the white teeth that are slightly crooked at the sides but still do justice for his smile. All he can realize is how perfect Peter is.

And he’s fine with this picture perfect movie moment, because any time now, his life is going to go back to the shitty hole it was before. Now? He’s okay.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter ends up falling asleep against Wade’s chest around five o’clock. There’s a small burn starting to form under his eyes, but other than that, he did well for no sunscreen. It’s Erik’s idea for him to bring him back to his hotel room.

Not wanting to wake Peter, he carries him all the way back, ignoring the weird stares from people, and making sure a towel is wrapped tightly around his thin body. White silence is deafening, and it’s almost as if nothing exists and it’s some weird time loop they’re stuck in. At least until he reaches Peter’s door.

He has to bring the resting body in his arms close enough so he’s able to knock on the door, and almost immediately, his father answers. Thankfully, it’s the nicer of the two.

Steve goes to say something, but can’t speak. He looks at Peter’s resting body, and Wade can see the worry seep from his features when he can see the rise and fall of his son’s chest.

_ Thank you,  _ he mouths, before taking Peter away from Wade.  _ Thank you. _

Then a door is being shut on his face, and Wade is just staring. He doesn’t know why. He wants Peter back. There’s an immense pull for him to knock back on the door, but instead, he leaves. Peter doesn’t need a vacation romance that will split his heart in two. And frankly? Wade would rather not have his ass torn apart by Iron Man, even if he knows he’ll be put back together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW THAT WAS A LOT!!! most pages i ever wrote for a chapter tbh 
> 
> follow me on tumblr if you have any q/c/c:
> 
> blackbanther.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! Underage Weed Smoking ahead =)
> 
> ~ don't own the characters. just the plot
> 
> chapter inspired by this lovely person's art:  
> https://bexorz.tumblr.com/post/143130313661/420-spideypool-art-livestream-because-i-had-to

Blinking his eyes open softly, Peter runs his hands across the silky sheets that make up his hotel bed and realizes Wade is no longer with him. He shuts his eyes once more to remember the beach; how gentle and kind the man had been with him - even if from what he knew, Wade was very overly hyper, and seemed to be very impatient. The thought alone had a small smile dancing on the boy’s lips.

_ Wade. _

Attractive, nice, funny, patient…

But he couldn’t date him, no.

That would only result in heartbreak.

Peter mewls softly as he stretches his body, enjoying the loose sensation he got in his muscle afterward. He curls into a ball and rolls over to his right, squinting downwards at the dull light that comes from where Clint should be sleeping.

“He’s a teenager, Tony. He’s going to be adventurous, and what did you expect? He could live the rest of his life alone, not picking up crushes on people?” It was his pops, talking to dad.

Peter heard Tony give a dramatic sigh. “I’m not an idiot, Steve. I know he’s going to like someone eventually, but...you  _ saw  _ that kids face, right? There’s that nasty scar, and he dresses like he’s a God-damned drug dealer. I don’t need the heir to Stark Industries getting involved in some low-end from the slums.”

“I knew you were an ass, Tony,” Steve says. “But I never knew you’d be an ass about how a  _ child  _ of all people lives. I don’t know if you’d remember or not, but I told you how I lived before the serum, right? I was like Wade. One of those low-ends from the slums of New York. If it weren’t for Bucky, I’d be dead.”

Peter honestly forgot about Wade’s scar. He’d been around him so often now that the only time he remembers thinking of it was when he first met him. It wasn’t bad, though. He liked it. Tony just always had this asshole streak in him, even if his heart was mostly set out for the good...or at least, Peter liked to think that. Steve said what he said about mutants, and about poor people was just for shock value — but his father was a billionaire. What did he have to lose by saying a slur or mocking those who didn’t wear designer clothes…

“It’s different,” Tony says. “You know that.”

“Why? Because you aren’t fucking him senseless every night, but you’re fucking me?”

Peter didn’t really need to hear that.

“Listen, Steve. You  _ know  _ what I mean.” There’s a pause. “I just don’t want him hanging around Peter, I don’t need any news articles to get ahold of a photo of them together and have the heir to my company plastered as a guy who’s in love with some...fucking weirdo.”

“Wade is a nice kid,” Steve says sternly. “He could’ve raped Peter, kidnapped him — God  _ knows  _ what he could’ve done when Peter fell asleep in his care. But you know what he did? He brought him  _ home _ . His father is nice, okay? I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of him making a friend. Also, stop calling him the  _ heir  _ to your industry. He is your son.”

“You’re the one who wanted to adopt, Steve,” Tony replies. “Not me.”

_ Wow. _

Peter almost feels like he doesn’t hear it correctly. He hopes he doesn’t hear it correctly, but he  _ does  _ because Tony is  _ still speaking  _ and all Peter can think about was his time in foster care, and how he felt like a pile of luggage just meant to go from home to home.

“And then you sent him on that field trip to Oscorp and he someone got into a discontinued lab and was bitten by a  _ radioactive spider _ , and God. The kid is just troublesome, Steve. I’m sorry if I don’t want him to end up as a nobody.”

Peter slips out of his bed because Steve starts screaming after that and with a heavy heart, leaves the room undetected. 

»»-------------¤-------------««

Charles sighs as he takes a sip of his wine, curled up tightly underneath Erik’s arm. They’re sitting on the ground across from Wade and Logan’s sleeping bodies, mind buzzed softly with content.

“I love you,” Charles whispers, squeezing the older man’s hand gently. “I’m so glad we have a good family.”

“You’ve reminded me numerous amounts of times,” Erik cheekily replies, hiding his smile in his glass before continuing. “But I love you as well, Liebling. And those nut-headed idiots, but don’t tell them I said that or I’d have to punish you.”

“Punish me?” The smaller male gasps and sets his wine glass down to smack his husband’s chest before climbing into his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. Erik places his own wine glass down to grasp around a tiny waist and hold him firmly in place. It will never cease to amaze him how even if he’s two times larger than his husband, his husband could overpower him without even sweating. “Why, my kind sir; I have never been punished!”

Erik gives his infamous smirk, baring hidden teeth as he raises one hand to bring down on Charles’ lovely arse. “My darling, I would gladly change that. Though, it may not be that much of a punishment if you enjoy it so much.”

The telepath just hums and smiles as he leans down, moving one hand to curl into Erik’s hair as he kisses him gently, it quickly turned into a kiss filled with passionate desire. Charles pulls away after a bit, his lips swollen and wet.

“Should we do this in front of the kids?”

Erik shrugs. “I’m a bad influence, I wouldn’t ask me.”

The man giggles as Erik moves his mouth to his neck, toes curling as he bites his sweet spot. Right as the man is about to slip off his shorts, there’s a knock on the front door that makes the magnetic wielder groan and pulls away from his husband.

“Who is it?” Erik asks. “Tell me, so I can kick their ass for ruining my much-needed sex session.”

Charles rolls his eyes when he reaches out to feel Peter’s mind outside of the door. “It’s Peter, his mind is running a million miles per minute. Something probably happened and he’s here to see Wade,”

The smaller male gets off of Erik’s lap and picks up his wine to sip on as he walks to the door, earning another swift hit to his rear end.

“Strays have a thing for you, Charles,” Erik mumbles. “I’m starting to get jealous.”

_ You’ll always be my favorite,  _ Charles projects.  _ Besides, the quicker I get done with Peter, the quicker you can get your dick wet.  _

Erik still grumbles in annoyance, adjusting his pants so his boner wouldn’t be noticeable to the poor innocent child’s eye.

Charles pours the rest of his wine down his throat and sets it in the dishwasher before opening the door, revealing a worn out, mentally exhausted Peter Stark.

“Peter?” Charles says, feigning surprise. “Are you here to see Wade?”

“I don’t know,” is the response. “I heard my father say he didn’t want to adopt me in the first place, and some other stuff, and I just...I didn’t want to be there anymore.”

Protective father mode switched on, Charles coos and wraps the young boy in a hug; earning a strong grasp in return. He can feel Erik now standing and looking at him, and he’s asking for one reason why he shouldn’t go up to that hotel and kick Stark’s ass himself.

Charles rubs his back as Peter melts into him, one hand going to his head and using his powers to calm him. When Peter finally pulls away from the hug, his eyes are droopy and watery.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie...Here, come in. I’ll get you some water and you can sit down and talk to me if you want.”

Peter is escorted to the dining room table, where he all but collapses into a seat. Charles sits across from him and on demand, Erik is fetching a cold water from the icebox and giving it to Peter; carefully squeezing the child’s shoulder in comfort as he does so.

“Do you want to talk about it, Peter?”

Charles has always had a way with kids. And adults. And toddlers. Charles has just always had a way with humans, and Erik knew it first hand; since his husband was the one to save him from his own toxic downfall.

Peter shrugs and unscrews the water, taking a long sip from it before placing it down in front of him. “I just - I don’t know. The other day my dad and I got into an argument, and he was basically like oh I’m Iron Man, you’re gonna have to realize there’s more to my priorities than protecting my own child, which is...really messed up? I mean, I knew he spent a lot of time on the job, but he would kill for my pops - Captain America - and I don’t know...it really hurt. And then tonight, hearing him say he didn’t even want to adopt me just...set me back ten years of therapy.”

Charles reaches over the table and latches onto the boy's hand, squeezing it gently. “Honey, I know you’re angry, I truly do. Wade and Logan, and a ton of other children I have seen over have felt the same way about past foster home caretakers, or even their biological parents. But the thing about families? They aren’t perfect. And I’m not going to defend your father for what he’s said, since it’s a terrible thing to say and I myself would never say it; but you as a human-being shouldn’t have to stress over this, which it is clearly causing if you are running away during the night to come see us.”

Peter nods.

“Talk to him, Pete,” Erik chimes in from behind Charles. “He may be a giant douche, but no father would ever say that and mean it. Take me, for example. I said once I wished we never adopted Wade; but hey...I love that kid. Even if he bites his toes and ruins date night.”

Peter wants to smile, but he’s too tired to do anything but nod. Charles notices this immediately and leads him to where Wade is sleeping. The boy lays down beside him, and probably without digesting their words, or even saying anything in return; is out like a light the moment his head hits the side of Wade’s pillow.

Erik wraps his arms around his husband from behind and Charles lays his head on his shoulder, earning a soft kiss.

“I feel bad,” Charles whispers.

“Yeah…” Erik pauses. “So no way my dick is getting wet now, huh?”

Charles snorts and walks over to their own makeshift bed. “No way, tiger. Now get in bed, I’m buzzed and need sleep.”

Peter’s lucky he’s Peter because if it were Wade or Logan that had done this, they would’ve been fried meat.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Steve sighs when he hears the door shut, and when Tony’s ears perk up to ask what was that.

“That was our son,” Steve tells him. “Running off in the middle of the night, because not only did you mock the boy he’s absolutely 100 percent crushing on, but you also said  _ I  _ was the one who wanted to adopt, and you didn’t.” 

Tony stares at him blankly before cursing and walking over the set of alcohols the hotel has set up in the fridge. He pulls out a mini-bottle of whiskey, pops off the cap off of it quickly, and downs the entire thing. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean it like that.”

Steve sits on Clint’s bed and rubs his fingers into his forehead. “Well, he doesn’t know that. And he’s probably going to see Wade, so I’m not very worried at the moment. What I’m worried about is why in the  _ hell  _ you’re ruining our vacation by suddenly attacking our son. First, you basically tell him you don’t give a shit about his safety; and now you do this.  _ I didn’t want to adopt,  _ Tony? Really?”

Tony groans and rolls his neck back, squeezing it with his hands. “You know I don’t mean to be an asshole.”

“Well you are,” Steve says. “And I know you love me, but I also know you love Peter more. So until you have both a reason and an apology for what you said to my son, I’m not on speaking terms with you.”

“Steve-”

“No, Tony. I’m not one of those girls you used to date that let you abuse whoever you wanted, and get away with it. If I don’t hear apology by at least tomorrow’s lunch...I’m going to be  _ very  _ upset.”

Tony can’t take looking at Steve when he has tears in his eyes so he hangs his head, ignores the urge to reach out for his husband and apologize; allowing him to leave.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Wade blinks his eyes open and almost groans when he feels two arms wrapped around him. Ready to sucker punch his brother in the face, he looks to the side but instead is met with soft brown hair and cute chubby cheeks. His heart both drops and swells at the same time, looking down to see Peter’s lean arms wrapped around his waist. There’s a small pool of dry drool crusted around his mouth, and looking at him is so peaceful Wade wishes he could stay there for all eternity.

He adjusts himself when he feels the blood in his southern region and now wants to get the boy off of him as quickly as possible. Wade looks up to see Logan sitting in a chair over them, eating cereal as he watches him.

“Are you watching us sleep?”

Logan shrugs one shoulder, crunching on his Captain Crunch. “Nothing good on, right now. May as well watch you cuddle your love-bug.”

“He’s not my love-bug,” Wade says.

He sighs and inches away from Peter, grabbing one small wrist gently and placing it away from him. This earns Wade a saddened mewl and Peter is now slinking over him in his sleep, rolling so he’s on top of the man and clinging to him. Wade lets his body go limp; the boy's legs straddling him, and his arms wrapped around his neck as he sleeps.

“Can’t move,” Logan says, smirking. “By the way, Charles and Erik are getting it on somewhere else, so I have no idea when they’ll be back. They told me to tell you Peter had heard something fucked up his dad said, so he may be a little down in the dumps.”

Wade’s nose wrinkled when a stray piece of hair tickled his nose. “Well, what did the fucker say? I’ll kill him.”

“Erik didn’t tell me,” Logan says, mixing around his cereal in his bowl. “But Charles said it’s fucked up.”

“He said  _ fucked up _ ?”

“No, dumbass,” Logan snorts. “Charles is gonna die in the grave before he even says the word fuck.”

(Erik would greatly disagree).

Logan and him banter for a couple more minutes, switching the television on and trying to find something good to watch. Wade wants to watch Teen Titans, while Logan wants to watch The Fast and the Furious. They end up watching the latter, since Wade is being held down by a 115-pound kitten-like human, and they get about 30 minutes into the movie before Peter starts to shift.

He lets out a deep whine in his throat that makes Wade give him heart eyes and stretches; arms reaching forward while his legs stretch out - taking the form of a starfish. All while on top of Wade.

“Wade?” Peter mumbles, laying his head in the crook of the older teen’s neck.

“Yeah?” Wade lets out, glaring as Logan gazes at his crotch and back to Wade’s eyes, raising one eyebrow. 

“I’m tired,” his voice was soft and innocent, almost like a child.

“Okay, then sleep.”

He’s met with a snore.

“What a cutie,” Logan says. “Kind of reminds me of an overly large koala bear.”

Wade just huffs. “Leave my koala bear alone.”

There’s a smile on Peter’s face as he sleeps.

»»-------------¤-------------««

When Charles and Erik come back to their temporary home, they find Peter (still) sprawled all over Wade, who has a bowl of cereal balancing on the boy’s back as he eats it slowly. He doesn’t even look away from the television as he foster parents come in. Logan is sleeping once more, slumped backward over a chair.

Erik walked over to Logan and pinched his oldest son’s ear, causing him to curse and jerk awake.

“How long has he been sleeping?” Erik asks. “It’s already 11. Lunch is in an hour,”

“Don’t know,” Logan yawns, stretching his arms and legs out. “All I know is Wade tried to get up and he latched onto him like a koala bear and has been out since. I had to get the dumbass cereal, so I put milk in it even if he doesn’t like milk.”

“Milk is unnecessary,” Wade grumbles. “It’s literally Cow’s pee.”

“It really isn’t,” Logan says. “But I wouldn’t expect anything more from you considering you have about five brain cells.”

Charles rolls his eyes at the boy’s banter and goes to the kitchen to start on washing dirty dishes. “Wake him up, Wade. I would let him sleep in, but I can tell he’s having some bad dreams.”

Wade groans around a mouthful of cereal and sets his bowl off to the side so he can take his fingers and press them into the boy’s side. He yelps and all but jumps off of Wade, blinking his eyes and rubbing them as Wade quickly folds his legs in underneath himself; adjusting the cloth over his crotch. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Logan quips. “Almost thought you were dead, you  _ literally  _ slept for an entire day.”

Peter’s eyes widen as he looks at Wade. “A whole  _ day _ ?”

“No, sweetie,” Charles says. “Logan’s just making a bad joke. Come sit at the table; I’ll make you some bacon and eggs. Do you feel better than you did last night?”

The boy hesitates before looking at Wade, who gives him a nod. He chews on his lip and walks over to where they eat, sitting criss-cross in his chair. “Is it bad I don’t want to go home?” he asks. “Could I just hang out with Wade and Logan all day?”

Erik sighs and takes a phone out of his back pocket to give to Peter. “Call your father, first. I’m aware he’s an asshole.”

Logan smirks as Peter gives a nod, dialing Steve’s phone number and pressing it to his ear. There’s a couple of rings before he picks up.

“Hello?” is the gruffed response. He can hear water in the bathroom so they haven’t started doing anything for the day if his pops is taking a shower.

“Hey, pops,” Peter greets softly. “Sorry if you woke up and freaked out because you didn’t see me, but...can I spend the day at Wade’s today?”

There’s a sigh from the other end. “Peter, I know you heard what your father said, and...I don’t know why he said that, but I  _ do  _ know that what he said was a lie. He loves you, Peter. More than anything else in the world, he’s just...an asshole when it comes to his emotions.”

Peter watches as Charles’ thin and pale hand moves the bacon around, listening to it sizzle.

“Peter?”

He blinks out of it and looks down at his free hand, which is resting in his lap. “Uh, yeah, pops. I just...I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I’ll talk to you tonight when I get home, but for now; can I just stay at Wade’s? I know I missed two days of sightseeing, but…”

“Don’t worry, honey. It’s fine, I get it; besides, this is our fifth day out of twenty-one. You’ll be fine, okay? Just...call me when you’re heading back, I got nervous when Wade was carrying you around. I love you, sweetie.”

“I love you too, pops. Bye,”

Steve is hesitant to drop the phone call, so Peter does it for him. He didn’t know why he dad had to be so dramatic, and start fights over vacations. He smiles awkwardly as he hands the phone back to Erik, feeling something warm in him when he sees the lock screen is Charles being held up by both Wade and Logan.

“Thank you,” he says to both Erik and Charles, and the smaller of the two gives him a plate filled with bacon and eggs. Wade and Logan go to join at the table, Wade sitting beside Peter as he starts to eat.

“What are you kids going to do today?” Erik asks, starting to make a cup of coffee.

“I was thinking we could go down to that pond near the ends of the woods,” Logan offers. “Go swimming or something.”

Wade smirks, nodding his head. “Yeah, maybe so.”

“Peter doesn’t like to swim,” Charles says, pulling frozen sausage out of the fridge to make for Erik. “Remember?”

“It’s fine,” Peter shrugs. “I can just dangle my feet in the lake or something.”

Charles hums and once he’s finishing Erik and his food, he joins all the men at the table. “So, you’re better now, Peter?”

“Yes,” Peter pauses before rethinking his answer. “I mean - I think...I think so,”

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Wade says, smacking his shoulder. “We’ll take a cool walk around the forest and soon, you’ll be better in no time!”

He shrugs, scarfing down the rest of his food.

Charles tries to ease his mind as he flashes back to seeing Raven in the woods.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Around one o’clock, Peter, Wade, and Logan are lounging outside of the trailer and around the campfire, and Peter still feels empty no matter how many jokes Logan cracks or how many times Wade pretends to hurt himself.

“Guys?” He asks, making the two boys wrestling each other pause. “This is kind of random, but uh...do you have weed?”

Just saying it makes Logan and Wade both go wide-eyed as if Peter had just confessed to murdering someone. Wade stands up and dusts off his pants, coughing into his hand.

“Aren’t you like…the child of America?”

Peter turns red at Logan’s words and shrugs, pressing his wrists against his knees and looking down at the floor in shame. “Yeah, I guess, but...I’ve always heard about kids doing it, and how it made them feel better. I’m a teenager, you know? May as well try it and be stupid once...Besides, it’s not as if my Pops will care - he’s seen Bruce do it a ton of times.”

“Bruce Banner?” Wade asks. “Like...the  _ Hulk  _ Bruce Banner?”

Peter nods his head, resting his chin in his hand and meeting the boy’s eyes. “Yeah, it relaxes him or something. He has like...grade A quality stuff, and it’s not medical. There’s a whole closed off section of the lab where he takes a daily hit.”

“Jesus,” Logan says, face contorted in surprise. “That dude must be wild.”

Peter shrugs. “I guess. Kind of weird to see my nerdy uncle smoking weed in what looks like a quarantine.”

Wade cocks one eyebrow up and shrugs. “I mean, I don’t want to seem like a bad influence or anything...but…”

They both look with wide eyes to Logan, who rolls his own.

“I’m not gettin’ my ass kicked by Iron Man if we do this, right?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Like I’d let the baby go home stoned,” Wade scoffs. “As if. His limit is five hits if he can even pass one.”

Peter grins when Logan shakes his head and stands up. “I’m gonna be smoking actual cigars, though. Y’all can get high but if Charles finds out we did the kid dirty like that our assholes are done for.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Logan has to get his stash from a pillow in the trailer, and the two adults just wave him off, telling him to have fun and to be careful, telling him to call if they run into any issues. After he shows it to Wade and Peter, they all go deep into the woods - where Peter saw that man die - and settle at the lake they were talking about earlier in the day.

Peter shrugs on one of the hoodies he asked Wade to borrow and snuggles into it as he sits down on the grass. The lake in front of him is clear, and he wouldn’t have known it’s a lake at all if a leaf hadn’t fallen in it, causing multiple ringlets to ripple through the water.

“So,” Wade says once he’s got a blunt in between two fingers, using his free hand to set a lighter and bring it up to brush against the ends of it. “Basically, just follow what I do.”

Logan takes the lighter away from him and strikes it again to brush the flames against his own cigar before capping it and tucking it into his pocket. Both men curl the ends of their lips around it and breathe it in, before tugging it away and exhaling deeply.

“You’re probably gonna cough like a bitch,” Logan assures. “But just inhale and exhale, that’s all you gotta do. Since it’s your first time, some cool stuff or weird stuff may happen; but we’re gonna keep an eye on you.”

Peter nods and takes the blunt from Wade, holding it gingerly between his two fingers. Wade coughs slightly and nods his head, telling him it’s okay. The boy brings it to hip lips and ignores the stench of weed rolling off of it. He curls his lips around it like Wade did and inhales, feeling the smoke curl down his throat before he pulls away and lets it out it one long, swift motion.

“Shit,” Wade says, eyes wide. Peter coughs a little when he’s finished, and there’s a sour taste on his tongue as he hands it back. “Kid, you’re a natural.”

“For sure,” Logan says, winking at Peter. “Maybe we should real that limit back to three, yeah? Let’s see how you’re feeling after that.”

Peter just smiles, his head starting to feel cotton-y. If that’s a word? Is that a word? Oh well.

Within thirty minutes Peter’s taken his third hit, sucking in as much as he can before blowing it out; smooth and easy, as if he’s been smoking for years.

“Shit, dude,” Wade says, taking it back. He’s probably taken about fifteen hits, and only Peter’s behavior has started to change. He sucks it in and this time, the smoke comes out of his nose which causes the younger male to giggle. “You must got strong lungs or some shit.” 

“Or some shit,” Peter breathes, giving Wade a wink.

He then lays back on the grass, the ends of his hoodie riding up as he stretches out his body. “You know I’m really flexible,” he says. “I could be considered a contortionist. My dads always said I had to learn how to protect myself, and someone how I ended up flexible as fuck and not allowed to even fight.” There’s another giggle and Wade watches in fascination as Peter gently throws his legs back, more skin-baring from his shorts than need be. His toes dig into the ground, and Wade can see the amazement cross the boys face.

“My toes are tiny,” he says, before hiccuping. “Are toes supposed to be tiny when you’re high?”

Logan snorts, cigar almost halfway done. “Kid, we should’ve left you at one hit. I swear to God, Wilson if he does some weird shit with his legs I’m out of here.”

Peter throws his legs back in front of him, laying straight and as rigged as a board on the floor. “You know...I saw a man die in these woods,” he says.

Wade pulls the blunt away from his mouth and sends a look Logan’s way, who just gestures for him to relax.

“I don’t know what was happening...I think there are mutants here.” Peter reaches up to rub his head and groans. “I feel so bad because my dad is just a mutantist. Is that the word for someone who doesn’t like mutants? Mutantist? I don’t know, I’ve always liked mutation...I’m gonna apply to take some courses on it in college, especially since I’m...well, you know. Do you guys have any food? I’m hungry.”

Innocent and rounded brown eyes look up to Wade and he hesitates before Logan speaks.

“Let's go to Scott,” he says.

“Are you sure?” Wade asks. “That kid’s brother is annoying as hell.”

“He’s one of us, Wade, now chill out.”

Peter watches the banter between the two, eyes looking back and forth in confusion. “One of you? What does that mean?”

“A stoner,” Logan says, without hesitation. “Now let Wade pick you up, and let’s go.”

Peter hums when Wade grabs one of his arms and pulls him up as if he’s nothing but a feather. He wraps his arm around Wade’s neck and giggles, feet swaying for a moment before he’s right on track.

“You walk more like you’re drunk than high,”

“Those are two synonyms to me,” Logan chirps in. “Just let the kid live, Wilson.”

Peter hums and lets go of Wade halfway through the walk, only to then latch back onto him, gripping his shirt in his hands.

“I like this shirt,” the boy's whispers, eyes blown as he looks Wade up and down. “What is it? Boyfriend material?”

Logan all but dies as Wade’s face flushes and he has to push a giggling Pete into walking.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“What the fuck do you want?”

Scott’s ready for bed, even if it’s smack in the middle of the afternoon. His glasses are tightly placed around his head as always, and he’s shirtless, low-cut pajama bottoms making his evening attire. He worked with Charles sometimes, at the academy. He followed them here for the mission, but he was only called out when things were most important, so he had to let them in. Also, Logan was fucking him. Go figure.

“Hi!” Peter greets, waving excitedly and flashing a cute smile with straight, bright white teeth. “I’m Peter! Stark! Well, my adopted dad is kind of an asshole right now so you can choose to call me Peter Parker if you want!”

He’s like a puppy. All excited, and cute. Scott decides if either of those numbnuts fucked with him, he would kill everyone because of that kid? God, he’s adorable. Scott was going to adopt him, and nobody could say anything about it.

Scott let them in and Wade took Peter over to the couch, where he tried to sit far away but only ended up with the boy draped all along his side, head bubbly and humming lyrics to a Queen song nobody could quite place but for sure knew.

“What’s up with the kid?” Scott asks, reaching into his fridge and taking out a tub of ice-cream. They weren’t parents, Logan specified. They didn’t have to feed him good shit, they just had to feed him  _ food _ .

“Wade’s boyfriend,” Logan says; loud enough for the boys on the couch to hear him.

Peter giggles and inches closer, pulling away only when Logan all but drops the ice cream on his lap.

“Ice cream?” he asks, looking up at Logan. His hair is a mess, his eyes are both wide and drooping at the same time, and his mouth is just hanging open. He’s like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Instead of screaming like the man thought he was going to do, Peter starts to cry, holding the tub of ice cream close and stabbing his spoon into it. “I love ice cream…”

“Oh my god,” Scott says, hands on his hips. “He is so cute. Where did you get him? Can I keep him?”

“No,” Wade grunts as Peter lays the ice cream tub on his lap and rolls over on his stomach to shovel it into his mouth. “He’s my friend. He had a bad night last night and asked if we had weed. Logan gave it to him, and we let him have a little more than expected for a beginner since he was taking it so well.”

“You guys are dumbasses,” Scott says. “So? Why come here?”

Wade looks at Logan, tilting his head sideways to signal them to get away from Peter so he won’t hear it. Logan sighs and grips his boyfriend’s arm, dragging him all the way to the door.

“Peter saw someone die in the woods,” Logan whispered. “He told us because he’s baked.”

Scott raised one eyebrow. “Are you serious? And you haven’t told Xavier for what reason?”

“We don’t want Peter dragged into it,” he says. “His father is fucking Iron Man - Tony Stark. He’s the biggest celebrity and superhero that’s against mutants. We can’t just...drag him into this.”

“So, then?” Scott asks. “What do you want me to do?”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter stopped crying and is now sitting up, the tub of ice-cream still in Wade’s lap - even if it is fucking freezing. He hums as he sucks on his spoon, staring holes into the side of his friend’s head.

“Yes, Peter?” Wade asks. “Something you would like to say?”

“You’re cute,” he drops casually, reaching over to dig another spoon of ice cream out. “My dad said he doesn’t like your scar, but I think it’s hot. If we lived in the same city I’d honestly probably let you hit it.”

_ Wow,  _ Wade thinks, almost about to say something before he remembers Pete’s high.

“You’re high, Peter,” he says. “I think we should talking about this when we’re sober.”

“I know what I’m doing,” the boy replies, taking the tub of ice cream off of Wade’s lap and then laying his head down on it, body twisted awkwardly. “It’s like...I know what I’m doing, and I’m for sure doing to remember it, but...I can’t stop myself. But you are hot, Wade. No doubt about it. I wish I could date you, but...I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?”

“You live in Hawaii,” Peter says, demeanor suddenly sharp and sad. “Or, at least until you go back to Charles’ place. I can’t...I can’t do that, Wade. Long distance? How does that even work?” He sighs and looks down at his hands, where he’s picking at his nails. “It doesn’t stop me from fucking liking you so much you’re the only thing I think about it, but at least it stopped me when we were in the water and I wanted to do nothing but kissed you.”

_ This is wrong,  _ Wade thinks.  _ We shouldn’t be pouring our soul out to each other when Peter’s high - he doesn’t...he doesn’t even want this. _

Wade trails a hand through Peter’s hair and Peter grabs it and presses a soft kiss to it.

“I like you,” Peter whispers.

“I like you too,” Wade says.

They can talk about it later when Peter isn’t high, but for now?

“Let’s eat ice cream.”

Peter nods and gives the spoon to Wade, allowing them to share. Wade tries to ignore looking at Peter to the best of his abilities, but it doesn’t work. Peter’s like a ray of sunshine - he’s beautiful and demands to be looked at.

_ Maybe this won’t be a bad thing,  _ Wade tries to tell himself.  _ Maybe this will be a good thing. Only if Peter allows it to be.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr for any q/c/c:
> 
> blackbanther.tumblr.com
> 
> ALSO!! read my new spideypool fic, already completed =)  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14690796/chapters/33945273


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: major angsty feels ahead
> 
> \- edited using grammarly   
> \- dont own the characters, just the plot
> 
> wrote this to 'The Night We Met' by Lord Huron if you want to cry =)

Within an hour of hanging out in Scott’s humble abode, Wade learns that Peter - at least when high off his ass - is one of the clingest people he has ever met. Currently, he’s curled up under Wade’s arm, pressed up against his torso, and he whines whenever the bigger man makes a move that suggests walking away from him.

“No,” he says softly when Wade moves to get up, small fingers reaching out and curling around his shirt. “Sit.”

Wade obliged, staying in one spot while Peter gets comfy. The giggly and bubbliness of his high has washed over, and now his brain is just filled with air - asking weird questions, crying out when people do something wrong, and not understanding anything that’s going on.

“Wade,” Peter says, moving his head so it’s resting on the boy’s shoulder. His nose almost brushes against the rough skin, and Wade can feel the tickle of his breath along his neck. “Can I ask you something personal?”

It’s about my scars, Wade thinks to himself. It’s always about my scars. 

“Go ahead,” Wade says. “I’ll give you the easiest answer I could give.”

He can feel his heart clenching, and he’s ready for the emotional blow that Peter’s about to give him; all but wincing as the boy opens his mouth to speak.

“What’s it like having a brother?”

Wade is about to sigh and conjure up his cover-story for his wounds but stops in his tracks when he listens to the question.  _ What’s it like having a brother?  _ That’s  _ his personal question? Normally everyone is always like; Yo dude, what the fuck is up with your face?  _ He looks to Peter, who’s sucking on his ice cream spoon and looking at him with wide, innocent eyes.

_ He’s perfect,  _ a voice whispers to him.

_ He’s the only person you have ever met that hasn’t said something about your jacked up scars,  _ another says.  _ Keep him. Cherish him. Love him, and don’t let him go. _

“Oh,” is the surprised response, and he watches as Peter’s face turns red and he pulls away from Wade, leaving a cold spot where his warm body once was. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, frowning slightly as he stabs his spoon into semi-melted Choco-Berry-Blast Bananza. “I don’t...I don’t normally ask personal questions to people.”

Peter goes to move but Wade reaches out, grabbing his palm softly and squeezing it. The boy looks at their hands before looking back up at his eyes. “Hey,” Wade says, voice gentle - almost as if he’s trying to calm down the Hulk. “Don’t worry, it’s - it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting that, is all.”

The boy relaxes and not even a second later Wade finds himself back to their beginning spot - his arm wrapped around Peter’s shoulder, Peter’s right hand awkwardly grabbing Wade’s hand that dangles over his shoulder, and there’s a warmth on his chest where the boy lays his head.

_ This is wrong,  _ he tells himself.  _ I shouldn’t be cuddling him while he’s high. _

One of the voices makes him feel better,  _ You could be fucking him while high. _

_ Yeah,  _ the next one agrees.  _ So you aren’t  _ that  _ much of a crazy asshole. _

Wade nods his head as if the voices were actual, tangible people he was speaking to.

“So,” he starts, letting one of his thumbs circle into the skin on Peter’s hand. “What’s it like having a brother, huh?”

Peter nods, ignoring the ice cream tub in his lap. “Yeah...I always wanted to know what a sibling would be like, you know? I mean, I kind of consider my family to be big, but it’s mostly Aunt’s and Uncle’s, and then there are my Godparents, who aren’t even  _ dating  _ by the way and - yeah...Yeah, I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like if you had a sibling who dealt with all the same stuff you do.”

The corner of Wade’s mouth twitches up as he listens to the boy ramble.

“It’s not too bad,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “I mean, I have a couple of other siblings besides Logan, but they don’t hang around our foster parents anymore. It’s a... _ complicated  _ situation, and honestly? Legally, I’m not supposed to talk about it. Logan’s been a prominent figure in my life besides Erik and Charles, though. There’s also Scott, and his little brother Alex, but...it’s pretty cool, having a brother. We hit each other a lot, but I’m used to it by now. Nothing could keep me down for so long, I’m  _ basically  _ God.”

Peter giggles and Wade realizes he would do anything to hear him do that all the time - whether is be walking around in a bunny outfit or pulling down Logan’s pants - he wants to  _ hear  _ him laugh like that because Peter is Peter.

And Peter’s laughter is a sign of happiness - which is the only thing he deserves.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter tries to go to sleep but ends up failing.

He’s shifted around the couch in multiple different positions - complaining greatly as he did so - before settling on sitting upside down; feet where his head should be, and head where his feet should be.

“Wade,” he says, mouth hanging open slightly as he stares at the television screen in front of him. “Everything is upside down and my head feels heavy.”

The older boy laughs softly and reaches out to grip the boy’s small ankle, squeezing it gently. His foot is stained with dirt since he decided to walk everywhere without shoes. “That’s probably because you’re sitting upside down, baby boy.”

“Oh,” Wade watches as Peter just stares forward with blank eyes. He’s motionless for a moment before continuing what he’s saying. “I like when you call me baby boy, it...it makes me feel all tingly inside.”

The man smiles wide, rolling his thumb over Peter’s ankle in comfort. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says. “As long as I don’t have to call you like...Daddy, or anything...That’s kind of weird.”

It’s Wade’s turn to blush. “Why would I make you call me daddy?”

Peter tries to shrug but his arms end up sliding down his torso and hanging off the edge of the couch along with his head. “Don’t know,” he replies. “I just know my friend, well...not friend, I just want to say friend so I don’t seem like a loser loner to you...anyways, she calls her boyfriend daddy and he calls her baby girl.”

“I won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Petey.”

The boy hums. “Whatever Peter wants,” he sings. “Peter gets.”

“It’s Petey,” Wade says. “Not Peter -  _ Petey. _ ”

The boy snorts, and for a moment Wade wonders how snorting works when you’re upside down. “My pops sings that whenever my dad buys me something I don’t need,” he laughs for a moment before his eyes glaze over and he moves one hand to wipe at his eyes. “It would be better if he cared about me, though.”

Wade’s smile falls from his face and he watches as Peter pulls himself up and shifts so he’s sitting ‘criss-cross applesauce’ and looking directly at his friend.

“Sorry,” Peter says. “Nobody told me weed made you sad.”

“Don’t be sorry,” the older boy says, reaching out and combing his fingers through the boy's hair. “Besides, I’m pretty sure your high’s worn off. Your eyes are as big as the moon anymore.”

Peter just nods, and Wade reaches out to pull the boy back into his side. He just slumps against him, allowing Wade to rub his hands up and down his back in comfort.

“Wade, I’m sad now.”

“I know, baby boy.”

“I don’t like being sad.”

“I don’t like you being sad either, baby boy.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter managed to fall asleep after he watched an episode of That 70s Show.

Wade was still sitting in the same spot he had been for the past two hours and desperately wanted to stretch out his legs. He couldn’t, though, because Peter’s head was laying in his lap; one of his hands wrapping around his thigh. He smiles at Kelso throwing himself down a cliff and runs one hand through the boy’s hair.

Scott and Logan coming back through the front door sends a strike of annoyance through him.

“Aw,” Scott coos, leaning over the side of the couch, looking down at the two. “You guys are so cute!” 

Wade rolls his eyes. “Shut up, dude; at least I’m not the one getting fingered by Wolverine claws.”

“I’m not fingering him with my claws,” Logan says, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a beer to pop open. “I’m fingering him with other things. I can show you the proper way to do it whenever you finally have sex with the cutie on your lap.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Wade can’t help but snap. “He’s not some fuck toy, okay?”

Scott smiles as he goes to sit on the floor in front of the couch. “I can respect that, dude. He’s not some one night stand, he’s  _ special. _ ”

“Yeah,” Wade says, looking down at Peter’s face squished against him. “Something like that.”

Logan and Scott get settled on the floor; Scott taking his place by scooting on to his boyfriend’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck as the bigger man drinks his beer, supporting him with his free hand planted on his ass. It almost feels like some weird double date, Wade thinks. Peter’s snuggled up to him, Scott’s snuggled up to Logan, and they’re all watching a dumb comedy show made a million years ago.

Like, a movie.

It kind of made Wade sad, honestly.

“So,” Logan says. “Charles already knows about the dead guy in the woods. By the way, you have to make dinner next, he said so. Found out Peter got high, all that jazz.”

Wade whines low in his throat. “Why would you tell him?”

“What makes you think I told him?”

Touche.

“Anyways,” Scott continues. “Besides your punishment, which isn’t even a punishment, Charles told us the woman was Raven. He kind of...looked into Peter a little bit. He also said some other stuff, but told us we couldn’t tell you.”

“What?” Wade demanded. “Why not?”

“Because you like him,” Logan says. “And Charles said it’s basically a compromise to you, considering he knows you’ll go berserk if he happened to cross into the line of fire if it goes down.”

“Hell yeah I’ll be mad if he gets in the line of fire,” Wade whispers, not wanting to shake the boy awake. He doubts that’ll happen, though. It’s almost like he’s dead. “If anything, I should know, so I can protect him!” 

Logan takes a large sip of his beer, before shaking his head. “No can do, bro. Also, we have to check out the spot where the dude was murdered, you know. See what we can find.”

Wade scoffs. “Yeah, I have fun.”

“We need you, Wade,” Scott pipes up. “Charles told us he already told you about what happened. Why did you keep your mouth shut?”

“Because he’s Peter,” Wade says. “He’s not a mutant, he’s an innocent kid, and I don’t need him to deal with any trouble.”

Logan and Scott share a look, debating what to say with their eyes before Scott replies.

“He’ll be fine,” Scott assures. “Charles has been looking over him, and honestly - it’s not a big deal. We just so happened to stumble across Mystique, is all. He’s already eased Peter’s brain into not forgetting it, but acting as an unimportant memory he rarely thinks about. Just, take us to where it was. You can do it when Peter’s already at home.”

Wade is silent and staring at Peter’s face.

It’s not like one of those views where your unrequited love is all hot, though. Peter’s cheeks are smashed into his thigh, causing the fat to rise up, and he’s drooling a little bit onto Wade’s legs. He’s still pretty, though, and looking at him seems to help the boy’s annoyance.

“Fine,” he snips. “I’ll take you to the fucking place when Pete leaves. If I even know where it is, he just said it was a little way into the woods.”

Scott nods. “Thank you, Wade.”

“I’m still not joining your dumb mutant club,” he says.

“X-Men,” Logan says. “And it’s not dumb.”

Wade snorts. “Sure.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter ends up going home around six o’clock, right as it’s starting to get dark.

“Day five complete,” he says, shivering as they walk back to the hotel - still swimming in Wade’s hoodie. “Now I can finally check  _ smoke weed  _ off of my bucket list.”

Wade smiles, placing his hands in his pocket as they walk past some merchants selling jewelry. “I don’t see why you’d want to smoke weed,” he says. “You seem a little too innocent for that.”

The boy scoffs, looking down as he smiles and shakes his head. “I am far from innocent, Wade Wilson. Very, very far from it.”

“How so?” He asks.

“Well,” he says. “My dad has this AI, which is kind of like a robot butler, except...not; and uh...I kind of bribe him into letting me sneak out of our house all the time.”

Wade gasps, smacking one hand at his chest. “ _ Sneak out?  _ No way, I wouldn’t have guessed you were the type to sneak out.”

Peter’s face burns red as he groans, tilting his head upwards and shoving Wade to the side.  _ Kid’s stronger than he looks,  _ Wade thinks as he almost tips over.

“Shut up,” the boys says, rolling his eyes. “I’m a good boy.”

“I don’t think good boys sneak out, Petey,” Wade says, shuffling closer to bump their shoulders together...well, Wade’s bicep knocks into his shoulder. He’s never realized how big the size difference between them was. Peter was thin and shorter, and God, unbelievably gorgeous...whenever he went to look at Wade he wished his mutation was to be able to take photographs with his eyes. He would kill to see what he saw in Peter every second of the day. “But luckily for you, I’ve done worse. So.”

Peter smiles, sniffing as he looks at the body of water surrounding them.

“Hawaii is gorgeous,” he claims. 

_ Say it,  _ a voice says to him.  _ Say the corniest thing that could pop into your head. _

“You’re gorgeous,”

The words surprise the boy so much he halts from walking, cheeks burning not just from his sunburn, but also from his blush. Wade stops beside him and allows Peter to look up at him, his almond eyes rounded.

“Wade, I…” Peter sighs and takes the taller male’s hands in his, squeezing gently. “Wade, I remember what I said to you, you know...When I was high. And I meant it, I...I did, but...I don’t know if I could do this...date you, I mean. I don’t know if I can date you.”

The boy’s been rejected before, but never like this.

Before, it was people who would shout in disgust - the materialistic girls claiming he was too ugly for them, and the boy’s calling him a perv. Now? It hurt. And it wasn’t because he was rejected, it was because he knew how Peter felt. He knew Peter liked him and felt the same way from the moment he noticed he turned Wade’s shell into a necklace - which he  _ paid for  _ by the way. Normally, he stole junk. But he had to buy the shell, because this boy was beautiful and just from seeing the way his eyes lit up as he walked through the local square made his heart beat ten times faster. And no, Peter didn’t owe him anything because of that - but Peter owed himself something. He knew Peter was having a hard time at home, and he knew the boy had hidden insecurities, and he just...he  _ knew  _ Peter.

Peter wasn’t just rejecting him when he said no, but he was rejecting  _ himself. _

“Peter,” Wade says, and there are a million things he wants to say. He wants to say they can date for now and not think of the future until the future is here. He wants to tell Peter he hasn’t felt this close to someone since his ex-girlfriend was killed, and he wants to tell Peter when he’s around the voices he kept hidden away in the back of his head were quiet. He wants to tell Peter he is flawless and perfect, and everything Wade has ever wanted and more. Instead, he says, “I’m fine with just being friends. As long as you’re happy.”

Peter smiles sadly and squeezes his hands before letting go.

Wade instantly regrets not saying what he wanted to say, but no matter how hard every instinct within him screams, he can’t help but stand still.

“I can walk on my own from here,” Peter says, nodding to himself awkwardly. “Um...thank you, though. I’ll see you when I see you.”

Wade can’t speak as Peter walks away, looking behind him hesitantly and waving at the now stone-still mutant watching him.

_ Go after him, you fucking dumbass! _

_ Go after him! _

_ You love him, moron. _

_ For once in your life, just fucking listen to us! _

Peter disappears before Wade can even mutter goodbye.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter sighs as he walks up the hotel door, rubbing his fists into his eyes as he tries to stop himself from crying. He didn’t deserve to cry. He was the one who said they wouldn’t date, and he didn’t deserve to be disappointed in the way Wade respected his decisions and didn’t call him out on his teenage angsty bullshit. He wanted Wade to reach out when he walked out, take him by the hand and tell Peter is was fine to be scared but that Wade would be there for him.

But he didn’t.

Peter said no, and Wade said that was fine.

Peter said no because he was too scared to lose Wade.

Peter said no.

He said fucking  _ no. _

Tony is the one to open the door, and Peter starts to cry. He starts to cry over Wade, and how Tony was an ass, and how he was a fucking coward.

Alarmed, Tony wraps his arms around his son and doesn’t protest as he starts to scream into his coat; muffled by soft fabric. He holds him tightly, and not wanting his business to be anyone else’s - pulls Peter into the room. He coos into his son’s ear softly, agonized by the pained tears coming from him.

“I love him,” Peter said between tears. “Daddy, I love him.” 

Tony nods and supports his son’s head, following him to the floor as he cries his way down to his knees. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”

“But I’m not,” Peter says, pulling away. The scene before Tony is one he hates. His heart moans in pain when he sees his son’s tear-stained cheeks, red face, and snotty nose. He sniffles and reaches up to swipe away the mucus. “Daddy, I’m not.”

The tears start again, and all Tony can do is hold his child tight and not let go.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“I don’t see why we have to go here,” Wade says, swiping some branches out of his way as they travel through the woods. It’s now pitch black - the only light coming from the party nearby. “Doesn’t Charles have all he needs?”

Scott shushes him and lifts up a fist, signaling for both men following him to stop. He then looks at them and mouths for them to follow him.

They tiptoe through the bushes, following Scott all the way until they’re crouched behind a large tree.

“She’s right there,” Scott whispers, voice even audible.

Logan and Wade look to where he’s looking, taking notice of a familiar blue-skinned woman near the edge of the lake. There’s a red man standing in front of her, his arms crossed over his burly chest.

“That’s one of Shaw’s old followers,” Logan takes note. “I’m pretty sure, at least. Charles told me his name is Angle or some crap like that.”

“You mean Angel?” Wade snorts. “Not Angle, idiot.”

“You’re both dumbasses,” Scott says. “His name is Azazel. Now shut up, I don’t need us to get into any trouble.”

They all quiet down and try to listen to them, but the voices are too far away to hear.

“I’m going to get closer,” Wade says. His two friends move to protest but he’s already moving, creeping along the bushes to get closer. Right as he can start to hear their voice, a large crunch comes from a broken branch from underneath his feet. Heart pounding, he stops and looks up, only to see the red man staring directly at him.

There’s a twirl of red smoke before Wade is being hauled up into the air by a strong grip. He grips at the man’s wrist, seeing Azazel before him.

“Hello, little rat,” he says, his voice laced with a thick accent. “Let’s see how my mistress would like to dispose of you.”

Scott and Logan watch, quickly turning and running back to Charles before Mystique and Azazel can tell they are there.

»»-------------¤-------------««

It took an hour before Peter was calmed down and no longer crying.

Tony allowed him to take a hot shower and gave him one of Steve’s shirts since he knew Peter liked to sometimes sleep in his father’s clothes to make him feel comfortable. The father chews on his lip before his son is coming out of the bathroom - shirt three times too large on him, and his damp hair hanging in his eyes.

“Come,” he says, patting next to his spot on Peter’s bed. “Sit with me.”

Peter hesitates before shuffling over to his father, taking his spot curled up beside him. Tony wraps an arm around him and kisses his forehead, helping the boy visibly relax.

“So,” Tony starts. “I’m going to start with the painful stuff first. I know you heard me and Steve talking last night, and...I’m sorry, Peter. I don’t know what got into me, you know? But I want you to know how special you are to me. I’m not the best of father’s. In fact, I’m closer to being the worst father of all time than the best. But I do love you with all my heart, even if sometimes I don’t show it. This doesn’t make up for what I said, but I’m hoping you know while even though I said them, I don’t mean them. Peter, you’re my life, okay? Without you, well...Steve and I would be devastated. Do you know that?”

The boy brings up one hand and swipes it over his nose, nodding sadly. “Yeah, dad. I know. I just was angry, okay?”

“Okay.” Tony nods. “You’re allowed to be angry because I would be too if I were you.”

Peter nods after him before tears start to leak out of the side of his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. “For crying so much.”

Tony wipes away a tear that falls from his right eye, frowning. “Sweetie, your feelings are valid. Never apologize for crying, because you can never cry too much. That’s something hard to learn, but it’s the truth....Especially you, Peter. You deserve the world and more.”

Peter smiles, sniffling as he looks down at his palms. “I forgot you, dad, um...I’m just a little bit angrier at myself at the moment.”

The father sits silently, not wanting to push the boy too hard.

“Wade, he uh...Well, he didn’t do anything wrong. I kind of admitted to him today that I liked him, and he likes me back, which should be great; you know? But...I said no to dating him, and...I’ve just never been madder at myself before.”

Tony nods, fist clenching at the mention of Peter dating Wade. He doesn’t say anything against it, though. “Why are you mad at yourself?”

“I said no,” Peter says, frowning slightly. “I’m just...I don’t want to start dating him, and then have to leave; you know? It would break my  _ heart  _ to fall for someone as hard as I’ve fallen for him, and then have to leave. And I don’t know why I’m so upset after saying no, but - I like him a lot, dad. I’ve never...I’ve never gotten so attached to someone in such a short amount of time before. It’s scary.”

Tony is silent, rubbing Peter’s arm as tears leak from his eyes which causes him to furiously swipe at them. He thinks about his response for a long while, and after arguing with himself, he decides him liking Wade or not isn’t as important as Peter’s happiness is.

“Pete, when I met your father, I was jealous of him. My father had spoke about him my entire life growing up, always compared me to him without realizing it, and once even said he wished he had a child like America’s Golden Boy, Steve Rogers. When I found out Fury wanted to partner us up I told myself - this is it. Finally, I can punch Captain America in his face for making my life completely and utterly miserable as a child. But, I didn’t. Because when I met Steve, he was scared, for one, but he was also warm. And I ended up falling completely head over heels for him - even if he was one of the three people in my life at the time that didn’t ever allow me to get what I wanted, which I had always gotten before then. I somehow, by God’s choice, ended up taking him on a date. And...it worked out.”

Peter sniffs. “What’s the point?”

“Your father lived in Brooklyn, Pete,” he says. “I lived in the upper states of New York. It took us three hours to see each other. It wasn’t as long as you and Wade would be, but it still took a while to get to see him if I wanted to. But guess what? It was worth it. Because there was video call, and text messaging, and  _ he  _ was worth it. What I’m trying to tell you is, even if your old man doesn’t approve of him, he makes you happy. And without him, you’re killing yourself over it. Don’t let distance get in the way, and don’t let anyone else get in the way. If he’s worth it, screw everything else. Screw it to hell. Because when you get to be happy with someone you love? It kind of trumps all.”

Peter nods, smiling softly. “Yeah...I think it’s time you got another Tony Stark has a Heart award.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Kid, if I got one of those for every time I was nice to someone I’d have a million. Now come on, let’s watch a movie before Steve wakes up and starts fussing over you.”

Peter giggles, and soon his tears of sadness are replaced with tears of laughter as they watch a comedy central hour special.

_ Yeah,  _ Tony thinks to himself, grinning wide as he watches his son mock a dance on the television screen.  _ I would kill to see this kid happy, and if Wade is what makes him happy, then fuck it. Let kids be kids.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr is @ blackbanther.tumblr.com for any q;c;c
> 
> PLEASE leave a comment if you like it because its what inspires me to write and tysm to those who commented last chapter <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! an update! sorry for the long wait, butttttt yanno. procrastination. hope its worth it! i'll probably update more since this chapter is a huge cliffy hehehehhee
> 
> ~edited by grammarly  
> ~don't own the characters just the plot

“So,” Clint greets Peter in the morning when they’re standing at the mini bar, slicing open a bagel to smear butter on the insides. “Got yourself a boyfriend, huh? I’m assuming it was the kid who I found you talking with when you snuck back in?”

Face turning red, the boy looks around to see if any of his family were nearby. After seeing them all at the table, nursing on their drinks, he turns back with a flushed face.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he says. “I kind of...rejected him, I guess.”

“Rejected?” Clint asks, one eyebrow shifting upwards. “You like him, why’d you reject him?”

Peter sighs as he scoops some eggs onto his plate, chewing on his bottom lip. “I didn’t want to date someone who was far away,” he admits. “Long distance would be...hard.”

“Kid,” Clint says seriously, setting his plate down to smack on hand down onto Peter’s slim shoulders. The boy winces and wants to move but he’s now trapped in a lecture - but at least it’s Uncle Clint, who’s infamous for calling everyone out on their bullshit. “You like him, I’m sure he likes you - just date. It’s not rocket science. Sure, feelings and crap - but if it doesn’t work out it doesn’t work out. Even if you’re sad or whatever, you live a little. Gain some experience.”

The Uncle then winks and turns back to his food, piling more food than a person should be able to eat on his plate. Rolling his eyes, Peter grabs the pastries nearby and walks back to the table; sitting next to his Aunt Natasha.

“I agree,” is what she says, before taking a long sip of her tea.

“Shut up,” Peter growls, stabbing his fork into his eggs.

The spy’s lips twitch up into a small smirk. “Why? Because we’re right?”

“No,” he says, not allowing defeat. “Because you’re annoying.”

“I could kill you right now,”

“I’m too cute to kill,” Peter claims. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to eat my guava pastry and do what I want when I want to.”

Natasha ruffles his hair, making him pout. “You’re cute when you’re irritated. Cutie,”

Peter loves her, but the added _cutie_ was honestly just unnecessary.

»»-------------¤-------------««

They have to go to karaoke that night after a long day of wandering around the island, visiting volcanoes, and going to a scientific base that Tony somehow got them into so they could see them examine some alien junk that flew down in 2012; you know, stuff you had to take super seriously and _not_ tell the world about. Tony and Thor ended up tossing around a ball which ended up being a bomb that gave his father a second-degree burn on his palm. Thor, for some reason, didn’t - so they spent all day in the lab where Tony was being bandaged and Thor was being poked and prodded; which made him almost knock out one of the scientists.

“I’m too excited to go home!” Tony says when Steve is rewrapping his bandage in the car, smiling at his son broadly. “Let’s take you to a club.”

“A club?” Peter asks, dumbfounded. “Like, where you dance and drink?” 

“You wish you could drink,” is Steve’s backhanded response. “We’ll take you to one of the places near the hotel - they do karaoke, and such.”

“Karaoke?” Peter asks, slightly baffled.

Thor bellows beside him. “Yes young spider,” he says, clapping him on the back and causing the _overly smaller_ male to jerk forward in his seat, his safety belt clenching down and cutting into his collarbone. “It is where we get to sing majestically into a tiny little circle that screams when you tap on it.”

Peter squints his eyes at the God but chooses to ignore the whole _screaming when you tap on its part._ “I know what it is,” he explains. “ _Why_ is more my question.”

“Well you’re a little hung up over the scarred boy,” Clint says with a smirk, tilting his wine glass at the boy. “This may let you get loose a little.”

The boy glares at his Uncle when Tony reaches over and ruffles his hair, making him smack his hands away and comb his fingers through it to somewhat ‘fix’ it.

“Fine,” he snaps. “Karaoke is fine.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Turns out Karaoke was _not_ fine.

The moment they got there the Russian within Natasha ordered vodka for pretty much everyone except Peter and Steve, which resulted in a game of Which Superhero Can Down The Vodka Quickest, which resulted in the loser having to go up and choose a song of the winner’s choice. Peter and Steve were forced to play too of course, but their small shot glass was filled with coke rather than vodka.

“Equally bad,” Steve said, nodding. “Bad for your figure - gross. Alright, fair game.”

The first battle was the vodka queen herself and her favorite archer. It wasn’t a shock when Natasha was the one who ended up winning.

“Hm,” Natasha hums, leaning over the table, pretending to think as her best friend leers at her angrily. “Let’s see...I’m in a Celine Dion mood tonight. Let me get a _My Heart Will Go On._ ”

There was also no shock when the loser on stage was terrible, but Peter had to give him points for emotion. Clint was on his knees as he screamed _you’re here / there’s nothing I feel_ \- thrusting his fists into the air as Natasha all but peed herself with laughter.

“Alright loser,” Steve says when the archer comes back to the table, slumping in his chair with a breathless huff. “I’ll go up against you next.”

“No way!” Clint yelled. “We gotta get through different pairs first. Besides, that was truly a performance - I don’t see how Celine does it!”

Peter smiles, tapping a finger against his glass. “I’ll go against you dad,” he says. “But be warned - I _will_ make you do a song you don’t know the lyrics to.”

An _oooo_ falls over their audience and Tony adjusts himself so there’s an arm thrown over his son’s shoulders.

“Steve,” he said. “Darling - the love of my life, the fire in my loins...You’re going to lose. And me? I am going to laugh.”

He does lose, which results in a montage of him trying desperately to keep up with the lyrics to _All Star_ by Smash Mouth; eyes squinting as he tries to read but ends up stumbling over the words. Peter recorded the entire thing, his giggling being heard in the background. You could also hear a large boo from another table, but it didn’t phase Steve.

 _This must be what not having anxiety looks like,_ Tony thought.

Up next was Thor and Tony.

Pretty obvious, right? Thor was a god and downed beer like it was water and he had been stranded in a desert for a year. _Wrong._

Within five minutes Thor was bellowing the lyrics to _I’m Sexy and I Know It._ It was sort of like Steve’s, except he wasn’t trying to sing, and he actually knew the lyrics.

“I’m sexy and I know it,” Thor declared before standing still as the background music played, face hard and set. “When I walk on by / Girl’s be looking like, ‘Damn, he is fly.’”

Peter was crying by the time Thor sat back down - earning him a concerned look.

“That was fun,” he said - before taking another shot for fun.

“Winner’s round!” Tony declares, before sitting across the table from his son. “Don’t beat your daddy, Pete. It’s disrespectful.”

As he walks on the stage defeated, ready to sing _Stupid Hoe_ by Nicki Minaj, Tony declares to the entire place that he hates his son; causing Peter to scream _Love you too, dad!_

Tony is cringing through the entire song but takes it like a man - eventually starting an argument with a crowd member towards the end of the song that results in the man being escorted out.

“Peter verses me!” Nat declares.

Peter must have enhanced speed because he wins again.

“He’s drinking coke,” Natasha says with an eye roll as he walks onto the stage. “It’s easier for him.”

“Aw Nat,” Peter says. “Don’t worry, it’s hard to be a sore loser when singing _Single Ladies._ ”

The losers round is Clint versus Steve versus Thor. Steve and Thor come out on top, resulting in Clint singing emotionally to _I Will Always Love You_ by Whitney Houston.

“You guys need to seriously get I’m doing this on purpose,” Clint claims. “I love these songs. I love the thrill of performing - I even got a standing O.”

“Someone throwing a banana peel at you is not a standing O,” Steve says.

“Stop trying to ruin my good time, Cap.”

Peter feels a buzz in his mind from the amount of sugar he’s downed in a short period of time. Within thirty minutes Steve is singing the National Anthem on stage, half of the audience saluting him. The boy yawns and pokes on his dad’s shoulder.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he tells Tony. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “Make sure to tell everyone you pass to watch this fantastic show.”

Peter nods. “I’ll be sure to, dad,”

He slides out of his chair and wanders to the back where the bathroom is, leaning down over the sink to wash his face and try to wake himself up. His head is throbbing, and he can feel an ache in his head. He misses Wade. When someone from the other tables got up to sing Fall Out Boy, he remembered how Wade told him his favorite song was from them. Wilson (Expensive Mistakes), to be exact.

 _I’m probably not going to see him tonight,_ Peter thinks with a frown. _I wish I was, though._

»»-------------¤-------------««

“Where the fuck are they!” Logan smacks one fist down on the table, growling deep in his chest. “We’ve been searching for Raven and her man for hours now, and we’re back to sitting in this trailer like a lump on a log.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to say similes,” Alex, Scott’s brother, says from beside him. “I thought you only spoke Caveman.”

Claws protrude from Logan’s knuckles and Charles is shouting - smacking his adopted son on his arm when he does so.

“Hey,” the telepath says, making Logan huff and hide his weapons. “No fighting. We need to find Wade.”

“It’s almost eleven,” Erik says, rubbing his eyes. “Maybe we should go back into the forest and try to find them. Searching all over town all day was a bad idea, she probably kept him with him for the day and is waiting for us now.”

“Why would she do that?” Scott asks.

“Because she wants to talk to us,” Charles says. “But she doesn’t like people knowing where she goes.”

“But _why_?” Scott asks again.

“I don’t know, Scott,” Charles snaps, annoyed and tired and worried for Wade. “Raven is very predictable and unpredictable at the same time — she’s also very reserved. Now _please,_ let’s check for him one last time before we call it a night and get some well-deserved rest.”

Alex stays behind for _reasons_ — as Erik put it — while the rest of them went into the woods where Peter first saw Raven. Charles’ eyes are droopy and his husband's arm is wrapped around his waist the entire time, and some time through the walk the magnetic wielder ends up carrying him bridal style, even if the telepath tries to refuse.

When they get to the area Raven was the night before, she isn’t there.

“This is ridiculous,” Charles says, all but falling out of Erik’s arms as he lets his booted feet meet with the soil. “It shouldn’t be this hard to track mutants for me.”

“Well you don’t have Cerebro,” Scott says. “Also — it’s _Raven._ She’s stayed hidden from you longer than a mere 24 hours.”

Charles narrows his eyes and tells them to look around; the older men spreading out towards the right while the younger ones spread out towards the left. They’re silent when — just like the night before — there’s a sickening snap somewhere further away from them, causing Charles’ head to pop up.

 _There was a sound,_ Charles projects to Erik and the boys, making eye contact with his husband. _It came from—_

There was no finish to the thought and no warning sign before Azazel was appearing before him, wrapping his long devilish tail around the telepaths neck tightly before grabbing his arm and vanishing. Erik all but panics, reaching forward and trying to grab for his husband but coming up short when his hands meet dust.

“Charles?” he says, looking down at his palms. It’s dark outside so he can barely see. He turns around and starts to yell towards the sky, for God knows what reason. “Charles!”

“Erik,” Scott says, making the man turn to see him. His hair is tousled and the controller for his powers is burning a bright red from having been used. “Azazel took Logan, I just — he was too fast, I couldn’t get him!”

“Fuck,” Erik says, feeling anger bubble in his veins — anger at Raven for starting this nonsense up once more when they were supposed to have retired and only help when absolutely _necessary;_ anger at Azazel for taking Charles, and anger at himself for not knowing how to get to Charles. He sits down in the soil, feeling it stain the back of his pants. Scott follows suit, placing one gentle hand on the man’s bicep. Erik curls into himself, one shaking hand covering his forehead as he squeezes his eyes shut. “ _Fuck._ ”

»»-------------¤-------------««

“I’m tired,” Peter whines, laying his head on his pops’ shoulder. By now, they’re the only two left sober — the rest drunk and still singing along to shitty songs even if they’re pretty much the only customers left at the bar. “Can we go home?”

Steve runs his fingers through his son’s hair before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Of course, honey,” he says. “Just let me pile these drunk Avengers into the car and we can go to bed.”

Peter nods his head as his father goes to stand up, walking over to his husband and teammates and trying to convince them all to go home.

“I’m just gettin’ started!” Clint hiccups, before turning to the microphone, waving his arms around — pretending to be an octopus. “ _Let’s get it started, HA! Let’s get it started in here — oo Hoo Hoo! In here! oo Hoo Hoo! In here!”_

Steve rolls his eyes and takes the microphone away before heading over to the head of the karaoke and giving him the tools and asking politely to turn the projector with lyrics off so he can get his group to leave. The man obliges and does what is told and soon Steve is piling drunk Avengers after drunk Avengers into the car and heading home.

Peter looks out the window and tilts his head into it, his mind once more wandering off to Wade.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Scott whispers as they hang outside of Tony Stark’s supposed hotel room, the younger male pulling his sweater over his palms and looking around in panic. “I think we should search for them on our own.”

“No,” Erik says. “While Tony Stark is a mutanist, his son is not and his husband is a good man. I’m not asking him for help or the Avengers, I’m asking them.”

“Wade’s gonna be pissed,” Scott says. “Charles, too. They won’t like Peter becoming involved.”

Erik growls and snaps his head to the boy, using one hand to grip at his collar. “Listen, Scott. _I know._ But we have no one else other than your brother to go searching for your boyfriend and my husband and your boyfriend’s brother - so _shut up._ When I told you all I’d kill for Charles? I was correct.”

Scott is silent as Erik raises one hand to wrap on the door.

Stark’s number was listed under multiple rooms, and Erik was positive this must have been Peter’s since it was sandwiched between two other rooms. The middle was always the best bet. There’s a silence he’s met with before he’s rapping on the door again, and this time it takes only two beats before a smaller boy is opening up the door, rubbing his eyes and trying to adjust to the light.

“Mr. Lehnsherr?” He asks, squinting in confusion. “It’s like - three o’clock in the morning. What are you doing here?”

“Are you tired?” Scott asks from beside the man, stepping forward. He’s no longer wearing the sunglasses that helped him feign reality. Now they’re his _actual_ helper - a thin band that wrapped around his eyes with a hot red stripe in the middle.

“Well,” Peter says, blinking his eyes and trying to understand what’s going on. “I just got back from carrying my drunk family in, and was able to sleep only thirty minutes before being woken up, so yes - I’m tired.”

Erik butts in, tired of the small talk. “We need your help,” he says. “It’s about Wade.”

It’s enough for Peter’s eyes to round and look up at him, confusion and worry settling hard over his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmm i wonder what happens next??
> 
> tumblr: blackbanther.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is what happens when i wing and dont outline a fic but im getting super creepy and i enjoy it!
> 
> ~ edited by grammarly  
> ~ TW: mentions of abuse? kinda?

“You need to get dressed,” Erik swiftly brushes past Peter and attaches to the first metal object he can find - a small baby bracelet taking home deep in the side of the boy's suitcase. The boy’s heart drops when he sees his birth bracelet floating into the man’s hands, the zipper undoing itself like magic. “I’ll explain as you do so.”

“You’re a mutant,” Peter says, recognizing the way his bracelet swiftly floated in circles around Erik’s fingers. “You’re _Magneto._ ”

Erik and Scott both wince at the name and the boy’s face flushes as he realizes he did something wrong - choosing to ignore it as he grabs a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt to wear along with his converse. He changes in front of the two quickly, not worrying as they’re still facing the door.

“Yes,” Mr. Lehnsherr says, voice short and slightly offended. “I was once Magneto, but Charles and I have retired from our crime-fighting ways.”

“So Charles is the Professor X nobody’s ever seen?” Peter asks, stopping himself from putting on his shoes midway to stare blankly at the floor. “Wait, so does this mean -”

“Yes, Peter.” Scott pipes up, slightly bored. “He’s seen into your head. That’s how we know you’re a mutant too - that why we’ve come to ask you for help...aren’t you supposed to be bunking with your Uncles, or something?”

“Or something,” Peter mumbles. “They got drunk - didn’t make it past my parents’ room...Wait, so why _are_ you here? I’m still kind of hung up on the whole Professor X and Magneto things and the fact you guys are mutants - yeah, there’s no way Scott’s band thingy is for him to see - and the fact you know I’m practically a spider, but like... _why are you here?_ ”

“Wade’s been kidnapped,” Erik spits out, growing on edge with every passing moment he’s without Charles. “So has Charles and Logan. By Raven, or Mystique as you may know her...She’s the woman you saw kill that man in the woods.”

As Peter finishes off tying the laces to his shoes, his heart grows heavy and he chews on his lip, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know, Mr. Lehnsherr, I just...I’d leave a note saying I’m out with Wade but if my parents catch me out using my powers - where anyone could find me...I don’t know about it. I don’t know.”

“Peter,” Scott says, sitting down next to his friend and placing one hand on the boy's knee to squeeze it in comfort. “Charles told us what he saw you do - in your memories. He said you’re brilliant and your powers are special...You don’t have to help us, but you could. You’re much more powerful than you know, and I know your parents don’t give you any chance to improve on it, but...You could do some real good tonight, helping us out. Again, you don’t have to, but...Again, we’d appreciate it.”

The boy sighs and nods his head, looking up at Mr. Lehnsherr. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll help...let me write a note, first.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

 _You’re going to hide in the trees,_ Mr. Lehnsherr told him. _Azazel, one of Raven’s ins, will probably use his mutation to come after us - you web people, right? We’re going to need you to web him._ Fast, _while we play bait._

Peter’s heart pulses in his chest quickly - his hands shaky and sticking to the surface of the tree he was crouched in. He could see everything so clearly, even when it was dark - the gleam that reflected off of Scott’s band, and the way Erik’s knuckles faded to a white as he clenched them; anger rolling off of him in waves.

“Azazel,” Erik says, his stern voice booming off of the trees, and filling in space. “We know you can hear us. Come, _now._ ”

Peter probably laughed if he had read that line in a book, or heard someone say it in a movie, but this was all too real...Mutants...kidnapping...the entire situation caused his skin to sweat cooly and make his head hurt.

“You think we’re dumb enough to just sit around and let you do this?” Scott yells next, voice echoing up and into the trees. “Show yourself, you fucking red bastard! Mystique only likes you for sex, anyways. You think she cares about you? She only cares about _herself._ You aren’t special, you-”

Peter’s spider-sense flicks off - ringing violently in his head as a man with red skin as thick as wax appears; a sharp tail shaped like the devil’s. He’s quick, but he makes the wrong move, he wants to mock Scott. As soon as bloody red nails are digging into soft white cheeks Peter panics and webs from his protected area, his wrists aching as he shoots at least three thick strings which attached both of them to the tree.

He doesn’t know how Azazel teleports so he webs the red man entirely until he’s practically a mummy - the only thing to be seen are his devilish brown eyes, which narrow as Peter jumps into a squat beside Mr. Lehnsherr.

“You idiot,” Erik says, walking up to them and slamming his hand onto Azazel’s throat. Peter walks over to Scott and rips apart his webs, being careful to not accidentally cause a tear in the villains. “You thought I wouldn’t catch you? Well, I may be retired, but I sure ain’t lose my groove.”

Peter cringes and looks to Scott, who lifts up his hands as if to say _I don’t write his script._

“Now we’re gonna free your mouth,” Erik says, using his free hand to gesture for Peter to come forward. “And you’re going to tell us where Charles and my sons are.”

He adjusts himself so the small male can move forward and work on tearing a small hole where his mouth is. Erik is pressing his elbow into Azazel’s collarbone, the pressure making the teleporter grunt when Peter is finally able to rip apart his webs.

“Very strong material,” the eyes are rolling over to Peter, voice low and growling. “Does it come from you?”

He grunts when Erik backhands him across the face. It wasn’t necessary, Peter thinks as he backs away from them to stand next to Scott. But it’s possibly just Erik lashing out his anger.

“Don’t talk to him,” Erik says. “Tell me where Charles is.”

“I can’t,” Azazel says, eyes looking into the magnetic wielder's. “But I could show you. How you get back is all on your own, though.”

“You fucker,” Erik growls, a piece of hair hanging over his forehead. “Why couldn’t you have just left us alone?”

“You started it, Magneto,” is the smooth reply. “You should’ve never sent those kids into the woods; we don’t _like_ people snooping on us.”

Erik’s jaw is set tightly and he narrows his eyes. “Take us to them. Now.”

Azazel smiles and then there’s a quick swirl of red mist before he’s standing behind Peter, gripping onto his hips tightly. “Your webs were convenient,” he purrs. “But there is no restraint unless my eyes are covered. I’ll keep my deal, though. I’ll take you to where your precious lovers are, but you’ll have to find your own way home.”

Then he’s gone.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Teleporting is kind of like a rollercoaster, at least to Peter. He doesn’t feel Azazel’s hands on his hips and it last about ten seconds - ten seconds of his brain spinning in his skull, his stomach dropping, and his entire body clenching in on itself before he’s dropped somewhere else. He gasps and looks over his shoulder to ask Azazel where he is but he’s gone, off to fetch Mr. Lehnsherr and Scott.

He is over-aware of the dirt he’s landed on, staining the palms of his hands and the rough outsides of his jeans. He picks up one hand and it’s sort of like sand - falling off in particles but some still hard enough to stick to him. The boy scrambles up onto his feet and wipes his hands off on his pants.

“Hello?”

It’s dark.

He twirls around silently in a circle. About two minutes have passed, which meant Mr. Lehnsherr and Scott should’ve already arrived by now. It takes a moment before he realizes he’s in a merchant street - but it’s late at night and the only source of light to be seen is a strand of moonlight coming down from the sky and falling over a stranded booth.

Peter walks down the street slowly.

His head isn’t buzzing with panic, and there’s no reason for him to be alarmed - but the abandoned place is all too eerie for him to understand. He walks towards the moon and looks at the booth, and squeals when he feels something burning into the skin of his cheek. Alarmed, Peter pulls back and realizes the stream of light must’ve done something to him. He reaches up and feels the raised bump of skin on his upper cheek.

One of the booths he loots has a mirror, and after squinting slightly he can see the letter burned into his cheek - _M._

Peter was positive Azazel fooled them by using the whole _you didn’t specify what I had to do so I did a vague version of what you wanted_ trick. Charles, Wade, and Logan - now including Peter, Scott, and Erik - were probably somewhere in this...weird town, but Erik never specified to take them _to_ Charles, and Azazel said he would take him where he was...that didn’t necessarily mean they would automatically fall into the telepaths palm.

The darkness that surrounded him and the now burning presence in his cheek set Peter’s aura off its axis. He was now crouching behind another setup booth, knees pressed to his chest and trembling from the cold. He missed Wade, and he even missed Mr. Lehnsherr and Scott - but most of all he had no idea if he would be back by morning, which sent a sharp pang into his throat.

_To Dads,_

_I’m going to go over to Wade’s and talk to him, so don’t worry._

_I have my phone on me in case you want to call or track me, or whatever._

_I love you, and please -_

_DON’T BOTHER ME UNLESS I’M NOT BACK BY DINNER TOMORROW!_

_I’m fine, seriously._

_Let me live a little._

_Love you! =)_

_Signed, your spider son_

_(Peter, if you didn’t know)._

Peter’s breath hitches as he reaches into his pocket and grabs his cell phone, glad he brought it with him. Pressing down on the home button, he only exhales when a light takes over; rolling over the sight of his face.

_LTE search...no connection._

_No service._

He looks at his wallpaper, which is him being bench pressed by Thor. There’s a tightness that itches in his chest and he starts to look through his photos - getting to the one where Tony and Steve are suffocating him over his 17th birthday cake before the screen blackens. He sticks it back into his pocket, chewing on his lips.

Peter’s never missed his father’s before this badly.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“Good morning, my soon to be champion.”

Wade blinks his eyes open to see the fairy lady standing above him - her jet-black hair curled against her cheek while the rest is pulled back tightly in a high ponytail; ears pointed upwards and her lips a dark red while her blue eyes pop from the outlined gold color surrounding it.

“What the fuck?” He asks, rubbing the meaty palm of his hand into his eyes. “What the...What the fuck?”

“Hush,” fairy lady says, and that’s when Wade notices she’s _actually_ a fairy - her body being carried to what seems to be the kitchen of her home by wings. “You have a big night ahead of you.”

Wade sits up and realizes he’s in a bed, trying to remember the last thing that’s happened...Peter, Charles, Scott, Logan, Erik...Where were they? Where was he? He remembers a flash of red but can’t recall what happened. Who _was_ Charles or Erik? Logan? Maybe Scott, Peter? There’s a flash of a brown hair and straight teeth peering up at him, but he can’t...who were they?

“My name is Wade Wilson,” he says, staring down at his hands, they’re...covered in scars...So are his arms...legs...They’re everywhere - and his flesh and looks as if it was melting like wax before hardening; the goop sticking and causing pinkish-red flesh to take over. “I...I’m...Who?”

“Don’t worry about that dear,” fairy lady says, fluttering over to him with a happy smile and setting a warm bowl of soup in his lap. “Also, you must be shocked at how different you look, I mean...if you even remember. You heal so fast and are so strong, I just...I had to test it!”

Wade looks up at her, blank faced.

“I threw you into a fire,” she says, shrugging with a lopsided smile. “And you survived! Congratulations, Wade - you’re going to be placed in Genosha’s very own Mutant Survival Tournament!”

He doesn’t know what that means so he nods, confused.

He can’t remember what he looked like before he looked like a freak. When he’s forced to change into the gear the woman loans him, he looks into the mirror and yanks out the leftovers from his hair - eyes welling up with tears when he feels it's being pulled. Whatever he looked like...it must’ve been prettier than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is going on??? oh wait, i know lol
> 
> SIDENOTE: Peter can shoot webs from his actual wrists bc i felt like it.
> 
> tumblr @blackbanther


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in updates! I haven't updated since school ended, yikes...They may be more frequent from now on, but it is senior year so yikes once more. I forgot how I wrote these things before...Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The boy is lucky he hid behind Hank’s shop.

Hank is always there first thing before anyone else - whistling a sharp tune as he sets up sales for the day, with just enough time to read some of his book before the market is opened to the town. Today, as he was getting ready the robes, his foot brushed against...an arm. He squatted down and lifted up the cloth over his book, seeing a small boy around his age curled up underneath, arms wrapped around his legs and drool falling from his mouth and onto the sand.

_ What? _

He grabs the boys cheek and rolls his head over, baring the  _ M  _ that tattooed itself onto his cheek - identical to the one on Hank’s wrist. His heart plummets in his chest and he looks up over the table, noticing nobody has arrived yet. Licking his lips, he thinks of what the Brotherhood would do to the boy if he found out a mutant was near. He’s seen what they’ve done to stray mutants; seen how the young ones try to fight and only ended up dead or near dead. He was one of the lucky ones who didn’t have a physical mutation - at least with the pills he’s made for himself to hide all his...fur - and his tattoo was in an easily hid area. This boy, though? A goner for sure.

Unless Hank helped him.

He shakes the boy awake gently, jumping when the boy jerks in his grasp and hits his head, thrusting out one wrist before Hank’s robes are covered in...webs?

“Who are you?” The boy asked, almond colored eyes wide as he presses his back into the corner of the booth. “What do you want?”

“I’m Hank,” the owner says, hesitating before baring his wrist and showing the boy his  _ M.  _ “I’m like you, and if you don’t listen to what I say - you’re going to get hurt.”

It sends a visible panic throughout the boy but he ends up nodding.

“First, can you maybe...get these webs off my chest?”

He blushed before reaching out and gripping a strand; his knuckles turning white as he struggles but ends up succeeding in pulling it off. “It’s very strong,” he whispers. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Stark.”

He couldn’t be any younger than Hank was himself.

“Hi, Peter. First of all, I need you to change.” Hank pulls an extra small robe off from one of the hangers and thrusts it under the table before standing up, giving the boy a nod before letting the cloth he was hidden under hide him again. “Tell me when you’re finished. I promise you, you can trust me.”

There’s a silence for some moments before he hears the rustling of clothes. Hank squats down again, still, nobody to be seen around them.

“You’re lucky I come early,” Hank said, grabbing a wrap from the booth and draping it over Peter’s head, crossing the cloth onto opposite shoulders.

Peter stands up, and even in an extra small, the boy is positively swimming in the clothing. His hair is fluffy and pokes out from the cloth, but it works in covering his brand.

“We have to burn these,” Hank says, gingerly taking the clothing away from him. “Sorry, kid.”

“Wait,” Peter says, before rustling the pants inside out and grabbing a small rectangular device from its pocket. “Okay, you can do whatever you want now.” The device disappears underneath his robes before Hank is allowed to set the clothes on fire.

By the time the clothes are to ash, the next owner is walking into the market, completely overlooking the two.

“I need to talk to you,” Hank whispers, even if there’s no one listening. “But not here, you’ll just...Have to stick near me all day.”

Peter nods, heart hammering in his chest. “Have you seen anyone named Wade?”

“Wade?” Hank tries to think but comes up short. “No, I haven’t met a Wade.”

The boy’s face falls, and he asks about a couple more people and before he knows it - work is starting, Peter crawling under the booth and hiding beneath the cloth.

»»-------------¤-------------««

The creature is huge.

He stands at seven feet tall, his muscles are probably made of pure iron, and there’s an overly large tooth that sticks out of his mouth and prods his bottom lip - resembling what Wade had thought to be a troll. After napping for two hours he was back on again in this stadium, which lights shone so bright he couldn’t look into the audience to see them cheering.

_ THRASHER! THRASHER! THRASHER! _

There was mostly boos when he came out announced as  _ Deadpool,  _ which fairy lady had named him after ‘dying in a pool and coming out looking like a shitty turd.’ Some cheered, only because after an entire night, he’s the one to come out on top to defeat one of the top five champions, which of course, ended up being someone ten times his size.

Wade was wrapped in red spandex from head to toe, and his weapons of choice had been multiple pistols that wrapped around the waist of his belt and two brand new katanas that took place on his back. He must’ve fought often, or trained somehow before he died and lost his memory because he was  _ good,  _ and no matter how hard somebody tried, he wouldn’t be put down.  _ Kind of like a roach,  _ fairy lady had said. 

He had also learned one thing - when looking into the eye of death, the name  _ Peter  _ and flashes of a mouth laughing and eyes squinted in happiness popped up into the back of his head; kicking in like a motorboat of determination.

This...Peter always won him the fight.  

Always.

It wouldn’t be different with Thrasher, either, no matter how large his fists were, how sharp and long his claws were, or how nasty he smelt. Wade would make sure of that.

He looks up to Thrasher and has to cover his eyes with his hands in order to make eye contact. “Hey, dude,” he cooly greets as the announcer is introducing them. “What’s up?”

Thrasher’s response is a loud roar, a long string of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth while particles of spit fly into the air. There’s also a pool of boogers dripping from his nose.

Wade steps back which sends another wave of  _ THRASHER! THRASHER! THRASHER!  _ through the audience. He whistles as he stands there, idly swinging his pistol around the end of his finger as he waits for the fight to begin. The moment the announcer waves his holographic flag across the stadium, Thrasher yells and proceeds to hit his chest like donkey kong...whoever that was.

Wade bends his knees slightly and cracks his neck, feeling stretched out from the warm-up session fairy lady had him do. He decides to mock Thrasher first -  _ taunt  _ him. The first thing he did in these fights was to tread through the water slowly and try to find out what type of style of strategy his opponent would be using on him. Thrasher...he didn’t seem to  _ have  _ a strategy. It was more... _ smash, smash, ROAR, DESTROY TINY RED MAN! _

_ Nothing like the Hulk, silly readers.  _ Wade thought.  _ Hulk is more...intelligent and  _ graceful  _ in his movements, Thrasher was more, well...smash smash I have no brain - let's not think and just  _ smash. He blinked and shook his head as he dodged and swiftly moved out of the way of a hook punch, before backing up and avoiding the uppercut that would have sent him flying if he hadn’t.  _ Hulk...I can’t remember knowing a Hulk...Wait, who’s the reader? Is someone watching me? _

Either way, not knowing who Hulk was or not, Wade was able to get a hold of the man’s strategy very quickly - and did the smartest thing he could think of to bring him down: he wore Thrasher’s energy out and barely used any of his. All he had to do was duck, move to the side, block, re-adjust the direction of the blow…

The audience was going nuts.

Wade couldn’t tell if they liked it or if they didn’t because half were booing, a quarter of the rest were chanting  _ DERP-POOL! DERP-POOL! DERP-POOL!  _ It wasn’t his name, but it would have to do...unless they were mocking him, which they probably were...which kind of hurt his feelings now...Wow. They’re asswipes. Whatever was remaining of the audience was getting up and leaving, bored nobody’s head had been ripped off their body yet.

_ Thrasher,  _ Wade can hear from the earpieces they were given in case they had to wrap it up. (Which they did).  _ Go ham on this fool! _

That was when all plans were out the window and Wade was unsheathing his katanas, giving them two warm-up twirls as he allowed himself to run forward at Thrasher - who looked about happy as an old man on the brink of death winning the lottery. It didn’t last long though since he was more stupid, slower, and...well, more  _ stupid and slower  _ than Wade.

Throughout the time Wade was calculating his strategy, he realized the troll-like creature walked with his legs wide open, unable to keep them together. His feet were also pointed outwards, baring his achilles. The floor of the stadium was also covered in sand...perfect.

Right as Thrasher was about to slam down on him Wade slid down onto his knees, through the wide opened colored legs, and was able to slice open the man's achilles with his katanas.

There was a great roar that tore through the deafening silence of Thrasher crashing down onto his knees, and then a wail of pain when Wade stands up and runs the sharp blades of his katana across the fatty meat of his throat and the point on his back where a brownish dimple lives. Thrasher cries loudly as he falls face first into the sand; thick amounts of blood gushing out to stain the floor beneath him as blood wells up along the cut on his back.

“All too easy,” Wade whispers to himself, looking up at the silent audience. “All too easy!” His voice echoes off the studio and he presses one foot into the crook of Thrasher’s neck, no pulse to be felt underneath his boot. The audience then roars in praise, standing up and throwing their arms up into the air as they chant his name, his  _ real  _ name.

_ DEADPOOL! DEADPOOL! DEADPOOL! _

»»-------------¤-------------««

Peter crawls out of the table when nighttime has fallen and he can barely see Hank’s face through the darkness. His legs are aching from being folded beneath him for so long, and his mind is cloudy with memories of being fed food under the table throughout the day, conversations Hank and his costumer’s shared, and falling asleep for a great period of time. When he gets out from underneath the table, every joint in his body pops and stretches into a comfortable position, making him sniff.

Nobody’s around them anymore — but he can seem dimmed, blurry figures from far away. Figures that won’t be able to see him.

“You didn’t have to stay under there during the day,” Hank says, readjusting Peter’s shawl before picking up his bag and locking up his items for sale. “It isn’t too bad here when you aren’t labeled.”

“I don’t even know where I  _ am, _ ” Peter scoffs. “It’s like...a different planet for me.”

“ _ Genosha, _ ” Hank says. “I’d give you the full crash course history but it’s basically a mutant organized state, but...not a very good one. We’re somewhere in the middle east is all I know. It’s...dangerous. More powerful mutants in charge have different races or species who are actually from other planets pit mutant vs creature. The grand tournament is going on right now actually, so the hunt is on greater than ever.”

“So I’m not safe?” Peter whispers.

Hank hesitates before responding. “Don’t worry kid, you’ll be safe. I’ll help search for your Scott’s and Erik’s — don’t worry.”

They continue the stroll in silence, the wind an obnoxious presence when it comes to the boy’s shawl.  _ If I had known I’d be branded, _ Peter thought bitterly.  _ I wouldn’t have been in such a compromised position.  _

“Mr. McCoy,”

The two males walking stop in their place, and Hank gently pulls Peter behind him as he faces another man — a widely  _ huge  _ man, towering over him by at least two feet and built like a mountain of muscle.

“Cain,” Hank says, voice tense. “Hello.”

“Who’s this with you?” The man, Cain, shifts so he’s peering at Peter — who doesn’t enjoy the nasty tongue that licks its lips when its eyes run down and back up his body. “He’s very young.”

“I’m  _ 17,”  _ Peter says before he can stop himself. “I’m not young.”

“He’s my cousin,” Hank says, and steps back into Peter’s personal space, making sure if Cain made a movement towards to boy he’d have to go through him. “Came in to visit a while ago.”                                    

Cain nods and pulls what looks like a cigarette out of his back pocket, letting it rest in between his lips. “Pretty,”

“Thanks,” Peter snaps, voice tinged with annoyance. “Can we go now?”

Cain cocks one eyebrow and pulls the cigarette from his mouth to blow the smoke in their face. Hank scoffs and moves away from the man, and Peter reaches out and curls his hands in with the other mutants for protection. They’re about to walk off when a large hand reaches out and curls into the soft fabric of the protective scarf before it’s yanked off.

“Hey!” Peter turns and then the same hand that yanked off the scarf is on him, fingers pinching into the pressure points deep in his cheeks. He whimpers when his head is manhandled to the side - his brand right there for Cain to see. 

Cain laughs, using the free hand to pluck out his cigarette and throw it by his feet so he can squish as one would do to an ant. “Holy hell,” he says. “Pretty, young,  _ and  _ a mutant? What’s your talent, boy?”

Peter’s cheeks are aching so he decides to answer the question by jerking his wrists upwards and letting his webs shoot up and stick onto Cain’s eyes and mouth. The large man growls and tightens the hold on his neck but Peter is already jerking his hand back into a fist and giving a swift hook punch to the temple; allowing himself to drop to the ground like a rag doll.

“Peter - Peter, let’s  _ go. _ ”

Hank grabs Peter’s hand and they’re taking off in a swift run. Hank is fast - and there’s suddenly an alarm going off somewhere away from them.

“Fuck,” Hank stops quickly and yanks off his shoes - baring feet that were...hands. Strong, hairy hands that grip the ground tightly. “Get on my back.”

“Who’s coming?”

“He must’ve somehow contacted someone without us knowing,” Hank breathes. “Just hop on, and let’s  _ go. _ ”              

Peter has no time to process before his legs are wrapped around Hank’s torso and his arms are clinging around his neck and they’re running. It seems like nothing is around. There’s air whistling past his ear and it’s kind of like a motorcycle ride that doesn’t end - his thighs contracting tightly and the only sound in his ears are the harsh thumping of his blood. He has to squint his eyes and realizes how dark the market is, and the red flares of lights streaming across the sky.

It comes as suddenly as him having to ride on Hank’s back is.

He turns his head to the side and in between a strand of hair sees a blur of black coming at them before he’s flying off and into the ground, a painful cramp coming up and through his leg.                 

   »»-------------¤-------------««

“Glorious,”

Deadpool, the Champion. Written in large, cursive letters and painted where  _ THRASHER  _ was once chicken scratched into the wall of the large room. It was tucked away behind the large stadium in a blockade of ballrooms, auction rooms, and bedrooms for  _ Raven Champions  _ to rest. Deadpool hadn’t gone against all of them, of course - but he’s taken down the strongest and powerful of them all, so now he resided in that room.

Fairy didn’t stay for long.

The moment her Mutant won, she was paid a healthy amount and flutter off to...do whatever fairies do. Deadpool was given this room, and was soon going to meet with someone called Mystique - who supposedly ran this tourney...gauntlet, tournament thing? Wade doesn’t really understand what it is, all he knows is that he’s now king of the castle.

“This is mine?” he asked the male who escorted him here. He was thin and short with a bald head - runes etched into his head and glowing blue while a dulled yellow aura surrounded him as he hovered in the air. “Like...all mine?”

“Yes,” the response was nearly robotic. “Until you are defeated in combat.”

Wade scoffs. “As if.”

Over an hour later and Deadpool is living his life in luxury - his face covered in a green slick mask that helped his skin forget the pains of the burns, eyes covered in cucumbers, and naked beneath a fluffy pink bathrobe that was wrapped around him. His right hand held a thin glass of champagne loosely, his left hand was being cleaned up by small elf; while her sister worked on his feet which were pooled in a vibrating foot tub filled with warm water.

“How are you feeling, sir?” The elf at his feet asks, gloved fingers adjusting the tool in his hand so he could pluck at the dead skin around his toenails. “It must be nice taking down Thrasher. I like you more than him - your feet are less dirty.”

“I feel great!” Wade replies with enthusiasm. “Also, thank you. I was dipped in a tub of fire, so everything should be clean.”

The elf doesn’t respond, but her touch seems to hesitate slightly. There’s a beat of silence before she continues speaking, “Mystique will be pleased with you. She’s grown bored of Thrasher, and you’re much more interesting.”

“Who?”

Both elves stop immediately, setting their utensils down. “Mystique,” they say in unison, eyes wide and face blank. “She rules our cartel. She has all of the ins with Genosha generals and leaders and she protects us. Most mutants are branded and sold to the highest bidder, while different species such as our own are allowed to own them. She helps us, but we must work for it. Your owner was the one who brought you here - we assume she either found you or bought you, but your talent does reign supreme amongst our very best.”

Wade nods. “Right,” he says slowly, putting his champagne down. “I’ll just act like I understood.”

Emotion seeps in the elves and they smile brightly, before returning back to work.

“We’re preparing you for Mystique more and more each day,” one glows. “She’s been watching you, though. She’s everywhere and yet nowhere at once.”

The flash of bright yellow in the elf’s eye is enough to spook Deadpool for days.         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contact me for any questions or concerns on my tumblr: https://blackbanther.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> follow my tumblr:
> 
> blackbanther.tumblr.com


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